


Cell of a Splintered Past

by LunagaleMaster



Category: Danny Phantom, Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: Arkham Asylum, Crossover, Gen, Insanity, Recovery, Torture, much angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-31
Updated: 2017-11-07
Packaged: 2018-04-12 04:04:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 54,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4464794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LunagaleMaster/pseuds/LunagaleMaster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nearly three years after the disappearance of Amity's ghostly hero, nearly two years after G.I.W. conspiracy, and nearly one year after the mysterious boy's first appearance in Arkham, the world's only known halfas met again, just not in the way that many people would expect. After all, who would expect a long dead hero to be at Arkham?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Spooks: The Boy in Cell 25

**Author's Note:**

> AN: Welcome to CoaSP! I'm posting this story both here, Deviantart, and Fanfiction.net, to get as much feedback as possible. The whole point of this exercise is writing critics as venting my inner fan girl. That being said, I'm new to this site, so I don't know how people usually do author's notes. If I'm doing something weird, please tell me, so I can fix it.  
> This is a Danny at Arkham story that I wanted to try. Most of my stories are twists on common plotlines used within fandoms. But a little warning first.  
> STORY WARNINGS  
> A] Changes to canon:  
> Danny Phantom Issues  
> 1) Jazz is seven years older than Danny. Jazz is 21 when Danny gets his powers. Starting from the end of chapter 1, Danny is 18, so Jazz is 25. I wanted to her to have a logical or at least semi-logical amount of time for her to finish college while still retaining her genius status but not making her too old.  
> 2) The canon for DP ends somewhere in season 3 for this story’s timeline. Everything else afterwards in non-canon. Surfice to say, there is no "Phantom Planet".  
> 3) For the sake of this story, Vlad never attempted to clone Danny before his disappearance. Vlad still has the technology to do so, but he never went Fruitloopy enough to attempt it before Danny left. Therefore, the twelve year old Dani was not created. This change is not made for the sake that I don’t like her as a character (she’s interesting to say the least), but a reason that will make more sense later on.  
> Young Justice Issues  
> 1) The inhibitors for Arkham and Belle Reve are different. They both depower prisoners, but they do it in a different way. The difference will be explained later.  
> 2)The Belle Reve episode will be taking place sooner in the YJ timeline. Take this warning as you will.  
> B] OCs: There will be three OCs in this entire story (I think, maybe one more), all of them are at Arkham. You guys don’t need to worry too much about OCs taking over the plot. All OCs will be perfectly human as well. No fan made heroes or halfas here.  
> C] Torture: Later on there might be torture scenes or graphic deaths. Insanity, paranoia, and other mental issues will be present as well. If you are uncomfortable with this, you have been warned to stay away.  
> D] Cursing: Every chapter has a cursing warning. Some chapters will be worse than others, of course, but in general, there will be F-bombs and other common curse words. However, characters won't be cursing every other sentence either, only when it's appropriate I(in my opinion)  
> E] DC Noob: Tell me if anyone is OOC, especially for the YJ characters. I'm not an DC expert, so my characterizations may be off. Tell me if someone is wrong, so I can fix them. I will not make a character do something OOC just for the sake of the story.
> 
> And that's it for warnings! Enjoy chapter one of Cell of a Splintered Past!  
> Disclaimer: I don’t own Danny Phantom, Batman, or Young Justice. All rights go to their respective owners. Please support their official releases.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which everyone at Arkham is confused or intrigued by the new inmate and Spooks just wants everyone to go away.

Life had many mysteries. Most solvable, some inconceivable. In some cases, these mysterious could be solved simply.

This was not one of those times.

The boy in cell 25 was a complete mystery to Arkham. It was odd. One day a cell was empty and the next, a scrawny black haired blue eyed teenager laid in the fettle position on the uncomfortable bed, muttering in some unknown language under his breath. Most wouldn’t think much of the boy at first glance but then people would stop and stare at the little metal rings that wrapped around his throat, wrists, ankles, and stomach.

These little rings were the bane of most super powered villains’ existences, the inhibitors. They repressed a person’s powers to the point of nonexistence, for they were calibrated to keep the person to human level strength. While the inhibitors themselves were a site to sore eyes, what disturbed or intrigued people the most was the amount of inhibitors on the tiny teen. Usually, only two around the wrists were enough to depower any villain, three or four for the really powerful ones. However, this child not only had six inhibitors at the time, but he also showed signs of his dormant powers even with them on. Not around the guards, of course. Never around the guards. Only when someone hostile got too close for comfort, only then would a villain see a flash of toxic green eyes that would send shivers down the spines of the weak willed.

Or excite the insane like the Joker and Scarecrow.

Still, the people of Arkham (whether villain, guard, or psychiatrist) all were at a dilemma at _why_ the kid was there. Only two people, the older warden and the new pretty red headed psychiatrist, seemed to have any clue what was going on. Both women always looked… sad at seeing the boy, which was extremely odd considering their relentless and ruthless reputations when it came to other villains. It was _weird_ , to say the least.

Most of the time, the boy was unresponsive, any villain who tried to come near would either get no reaction or a quick flash of warning green that would send any person with enough self-preservation instinct scurrying the other direction. Anyone who’s been at Arkham long enough would know at the incident where one of the more perverted inmates tried to kiss the red headed shrink. Let’s just say the boy was not amused and many villains were impressed at the cracks against on the concrete walls of the lunch hall from the sheer force the boy threw the horny guy.

Needless to say, the boy got a seventh inhibitor around his right bicep that day and was put in solitary confinement for a week.

To the _guards_ and _shrinks_ , however, he was nice to the point of being damn amiable. He would retain eye contact in a non-creepy sort of way like he actually _respected_ authority like he was some _hero_ or something of the sort. (Which, of course, the boy couldn’t be. He was in Arkham after all.) He never talked back to the guards… unless they gave him pitying looks. One day, Poison Ivy saw one of the younger guards try to take the eighth inhibitor off the teen’s left bicep because he was “just a kid” who didn’t deserve to be treated like a criminal and that he was sure that he would get out soon. That ended with a bit of angry backlashing from the boy and a then a complete 180 via a quick stuttering of apologizes for frightening the man.

According the Ivy, the guard simply gulped, nodded, and proceeded on his marry way with only one confused glance at the normally kind child before going back to work.

His cell was a bit weird too. Because of his young age, he was put in a separate holding cell from the others, but because of his good behavior, he usually had much more to do to pass the free time in comparison to inmates like the Joker who couldn’t even have a spoon without constant surveillance. The place was littered with stacks of drawing paper and piles of (blunted) crayons from every color of rainbow. The walls of the cell were covered floor to ceiling with drawing. How they stayed there, no one knew since there wasn’t any tape in the cell.

Each drawing on the wall seemed… random at best. A barrage of different colored eyes all in a collage, a broken PDA and shattered glasses, green blobs splattered on the ground, a flaming black “D” that was crossed out in red and torn slightly through the center, a DNA strip coated in green, a mutant turkey attacking a Christmas tree and so on and so forth. One of the shorter walls completely covered in blank pages. Some days, the inmates would see the boy groggily get up, mutter something under his breath, get a crayon, and write something on the blank pages in a symbol-like language before rolling back into bed and staring at the ceiling.

His ceiling was the most impressive form of art. On it, what seemed like the entire night sky was in view. Day by day, the villains watched the boy meticulously draw on the sketch pad, making marks here and there with his white, purple, black, blue, and yellow crayons. The boy’s hands would be smudged with a rainbow of colors as he tried to get the perfect positioning of the universe from the map inside his head. Over time, the ceiling became filled with the starry night. Secretly, some of the inmates grew nostalgic when seeing those colored in stars on his ceiling.

Some people simply liked to watch him draw. Sometimes in the corner of the room, a guard would take a small break from his or her constant vigilance, for that was needed in Arkham or Gotham in general, to watch the usually far-off boy color. It made the guards feel funny. It was as if the boy was a regular teenager instead of in inmate in the world’s top security insane asylum. It became disturbingly easy to forget his situation, considering his kind actions, his boyish face, the light in his eyes when he perfected a drawing, the-

Then the guard would turn away, trying to forget the boy and think of him as an inmate instead of the child he truly was. Nothing more nothing less. Still, as they looked at one of the actual insane ones, their hearts became heavier from seeing the result of the destruction of innocence in someone so young.

The villains were, of course, intrigued. This was the only time they actually saw the boy have emotions. Real live emotions! Instead of the usual self guarded or faraway look, they saw him focused and concentrating on a single task. They reveled when he got the perfect shade of sky on the paper, grew as frustrated as he when he crunched up failed constellation, and even felt small twinges in their cold hearts when the boy cried at an unknown picture in his hands.

Even though they didn’t know who he was or what he had done to deserve _Arkham_ of all places, the boy was just that, a boy. Probably no older than seventeen. Yet even without any true confrontation, he somehow wiggled the way into the lives of the regulars of the mental asylum. Maybe his youth gave him respect or pity or a maternal sense from the older women. Whatever the case, he was not someone who was truly hated, despite his insistence on being kind to guards and his cold shoulder treatment to the other inmates.

Maybe... maybe it was the night terrors that truly tore at their souls. Well, the screams were music to some individuals. The truly sick in the mind wanted him to stay forever for that reason alone.

For some psychiatric reason (maybe to make them more insane or feel exposed or a silly reason like that), they left cells entirely lit through all times during the day. Of course, they could tell the passing of days through meals and the so called ‘night’ when the officers would tell them to be quiet and sleep for eight hours before ‘waking up’ to a brand new ‘day.’

On the first night, the inmates stayed up to simply watch the new boy, communicating silently in their cells their thoughts of the child. Then suddenly there was whimpering. The inmates and guards turned to see the new sound, only to find the teenager that lay within twist and turn in his sleep in the most fitful of ways. The boy yelled out in his dreams, names and phrases and cries of the most desperate proportions.

It was a night no one could forget.

Over and over the names and pleas filled the cells and hallways of Gotham. _Sam, Tucker, Mom, Dad, I’m sorry_. Some of the villains scoffed at the noise, someone so weak being in Arkham was unheard of and to them tainted the name of the facility, which in turn tainted their reputations. Others smiled lazily, being lulled by the lullaby of screams. The villains dreamed sweet, bloody dreams of lost children and tearing flesh. _Please…_

They smiled in their sleep.

Then there were the villains who were unusually sympathetic. _I hate you._ They shifted uncomfortably at the screams of the teenager. The utter fear and despair for a lost loved one hit closer to home than they expected. Some were just as young as him when they lost the ones closest to them. _Why!?_ They too sometimes were hit with the memories of lost loved ones, and it was these memories that fueled their desire to give pain to others, to make others feel their loss, to make them see the cost of not paying attention, to not give support to those who most needed it when it mattered most. _Sam, Tucker, I’m sorry. I can’t…_

Unsurprisingly, the next week there was a massive breakout at Arkham.

Tears streamed down the child’s face as he gasped and tried to get out of the nightmare that gripped him from the reality of his little white cell. He fell from the bed with a thunk, but his mind wouldn’t release him from his torment. His calloused hands tried to clench the dirty tile, but with no avail. Finally, his hands gripped desperately around the metal of the bed, holding it like a lifeline in his mini reality. His body curled in on itself around the metal bed, and, to the surprise of the inmates, the metal bent under the grip of the scrawny teen.

It didn’t take long for the guards to call a shrink for recommendation of the situation. Finally, after nearly an hour after the screaming started, they managed to wake him up with a small shock from one of their tasers (long range, of course). The boy gasped and suddenly shot up from the ground and into a fighting stance, looking around frantically for a moment, trying to find the threat. He blinked and watched the place confusedly, his eyes narrowing at the bars in front of him. Then something seemed to click in the raven’s mind, and he slumped into the wall of his cell, seeming to remember his situation.

However, even as the boy tried to hide himself away, the knee jerk reaction to immediate danger was undeniable… as undeniable the haunting green eyes and the unmistakable chill in the air that permanently stuck in the minds of those in the room.

Everyone watched as the boy’s cell was opened. They watched, as he was led away to an isolated room away from the other inmates. They watched him and his strange behavior.

The boy was looking down, not meeting the eyes of those around him. However, if one watched closely enough, they would not see tears rushing down the teen’s face or a look of embarrassment. No, they would see anger. Pure unadulterated anger. They would also see his hands clenched, blunted nails digging so deeply into his flesh that it would surely leave bruises in the morning. However, this anger was not directed towards the shrinks ahead of him. No, the anger was obviously directed towards himself, judging by his sleeping screams and the glare he sent his hands. To have one so young not only go to Arkham but to have so much hate…. Well….

The villains gained a new respect for the boy that night.

The second night, the guards decided to let him scream his lungs out to see if it would end. It didn’t end, and many had a sleepless night.

The third night, the shrinks gave the boy a sedative for a dreamless sleep. It worked effectively, and the night terrors were officially gone. The child looked surprised to see the lack of tears on his face the next morning.

The inmates thought that it was the very first time they ever saw one of the Arkham psychiatrists get a hug from one of their patients, even if said patient was restrained the very next moment and sent to solitary confinement for a day for ‘bad behavior.’

Yes, the boy was a mystery.

No one seemed to know who he truly was. He just appeared one day out of nowhere with no background or any infamous deeds to his name… that anyone knew of. When the outside villains were ‘checked in,’ they hadn’t heard of any new major names popping up, let alone matching the description of the mysterious kid. When one of the guards questioned the warden about the unknown boy, she gave the man a sad look, and said she thought it would be best if no one knew of his identity to keep order within the facility before returning to her office for the rest of the day.

Questions to the warden about the boy in cell 25 became infrequent after that.

And so, since no clues to his identity came about, the villains met up a month after the mysterious teen’s[KK1]  initial check in to come up with a new name for him.

The first idea was Icy, considering his eyes were cold blue and attitude was even colder. However, someone pointed out that if word got out of the boy, people might think he was Mr. Freeze’s brat, so the name was dropped.

Name after name was thought of. Anything from Pitch because of his black hair (The Riddler thought it was stupidly unoriginal) to Tiny, Scrawny, Chill, Anti-H (short for Anti-Hero, based on his kindness to authority, but the villain was kicked out of the room for that suggestion), and even just simply NN for being such a no name.

Eventually, Harley suggested the name Spooks. When they asked her why, she giggled, and said he scared the living shit out of most of the non-insane psychos here, and seemed to pop out of nowhere at times. Also, she said with a wink, it would include that little cold shoulder problem the kid seemed to have, as well as those mysterious green eyes that were hidden under layers of inhibitors.

The villains agreed, finding the name suitable for the teen.

The kid’s reaction to the name was interesting to say the least. It was the first time they ever saw him surprised and even nervous, other than the initial night terrors, of course. He jumped when Harley suddenly walked up to him and told him that Spooks was his new name because he was too stubborn to tell them his real one and to treat it kindly since the crew worked so hard brainstorming one up for him.

Whoever was in the lunch room that day would never forget the look on his face.

_The boy looked terrified at Harley’s proclamation. His blue eyes went wide, as his body shook like his greatest secret had been discovered. He gulped, his breath in short gasps. Harley looked at him confusedly._

_“You alright, Spooks? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” If possible, the boy’s body stiffened even further. The spoon that he held in his hand clattered to his plate, the sound resounding loudly in the oddly quiet room. He gulped again and muttered something. Harley pouted petulantly and crossed her arms over her chest. “Hey kid, I don’t have all day. You gonna thank me for your new name or you gonna just stare at me?”_

_“Why Spooks?” He asked, his voice hissing harshly._

_She leaned in towards him,, bending forwards slightly. She placed one hand on her knee, the other around her hear and asked dramatically, a fake look of confusion on face. “What? I can’t hear you. Speak up will ya?”_

_The boy was apparently not amused. The startled look from earlier disappeared, but the twinge of fear seemed to remain judging by the slight panic in his voice. “You heard me. Why did you pick Spooks?”_

_She stood back up and leaned into her side, placing one hand on her hip. “What’s with the hostility? We’re just trying to be nice and call you something for once. Is this the payment we get for kindness?” She closed her eyes and tisked at him, shaking her head and finger back and forth. “For shame. For shame. There’s no need to be so mean.” She sighed dramatically and smirked at him. “If you must know you’re white as a ghost and you’re quiet and as sneaky as one too. While every time you show those neon green eyes, you nearly piss the pants off some of the guys here,” She giggled slightly. “But that’s not saying much is it?”_

_He blinked, staring at her like she’d grown another head. “Oh…..” He blinked again, as if he couldn’t think of any other action but to blinking stupidly at her. After a moment, he found the right words. The fear in his eyes were gone, but the uneasiness still remained. “Thanks then…I guess.”_

_She smiled wildly at him. “You’re welcome!” She patted the boy’s head and laughed at his hostile expression. Quickly, she ran a safe distance away before he could do anything to harm her other than give his infamous green glare. “Ooo… scary eyes. Now, try to be more social, Spooks. You’re a real downer sometimes.” Harley then smirked and turned away from the boy, walking back to the ever amused Joker. If she stayed for a moment longer, she would have seen the newly dubbed Spooks stare dumbly at her for a moment before shaking his head and turning back to his meal._

And with that, the name stuck.

Whether it be the ability to actually startle the young boy in some way or the actual prospect of knowing him by something other than, the boy or Number 25, it didn’t matter. All the villains of Arkham insisted on calling the teenager, Spooks. Over the next few months, even the guards starting calling him by his dubbed name. Only red headed, Dr. Fenton, seemed immune to the trend, insisting that calling him by that name would only lead him to being attached to other villains and Arkham and won’t try to get better.

Not like the boy seemed to be trying in the first place, judging by his nonexistent improvement.

Speaking of the red head, the boy had seemed to take a particular liking to the girl. Not in a romantic way (the boy looked horrified when Ivy suggested the idea), but in a more platonic sense. He was always nicer to her as well as more protective. Maybe it was because of her younger age or maybe she looked like someone he knew before he went to Arkham. When asked, he usually didn’t respond as was his Spooks reputation. Only Harley, whom was the only villain who seemed to be able to crack his silent wall, got any sort of answer from him by pestering him non-stop one afternoon.

_“Come on, Spooks! You gotta tell us. What’s so special about the little lady? Please! I’ll promise not to tell!” Harley sat across from Spooks at ‘his’ table. It became his table after the Seventh Inhibitor Incident, as it became to be called. Currently, the tables around them were placing bets on the situation. The bets included everything from how long it would take for the boy to crack under Harley’s interrogation to how long the cracks would be on the wall when Spooks had enough of this nonsense._

_The most popular bets were five more minutes and from floor to ceiling, respectively._

_“That’s a lie, and you know it.”_

_The woman’s eyes’ widened for a fraction of a second before being repressed. Instead, she smirked. “He speaks!” Harley’s smirk grew as a great amount of grumbles erupted around the room. Spooks arched an eyebrow at the exchange of money and other etcetera goods, but didn’t comment otherwise. Not like he needed to, Harley had won after all, and her dramatics would be her prize. She leaned forward, testing her already unstable grounds with the kid. “And of course it is, but you gotta tell me! I’m dying here.”_

_His eyes flashed green, and when he realized it had little to no effect on her, he huffed and stared down at his food. “Will you leave me alone?” His voice was quiet. Quiet enough to remind her of the child he truly was. She almost had enough pity to stop her interrogation._

_But Harley was an expert on repressing inconvenient emotions._

_She shook her head, much to his distain. “Only if I’m satisfied.”_

_He stared at her for a moment. Something flickered in his eyes, not a neon green flash, but some sort of dark secret that only seemed to be known to him. It disappeared as quickly it came, but the deed had been done. Before the woman could ask, Spooks suddenly turned away and got up from his table, holding the tray tightly to his chest. Harley was about to jump after him, but he muttered something in such a broken voice that it left her planted in her seat. “…she…she reminds me of my… late sister…”_

_With that, he walked off, leaving an unusually startled Harley to process the information she had been given._

No one asked the boy about Dr. Fenton after that.

The months passed and Spooks actually started to interact with the cast of villains, if minimally. The smiles he gave the guards became slightly more genuine, and Dr. Fenton even admitted that he was improving gradually. The odd drawings on his walls became more infrequent as well. Overall, he looked to be actually healing from whatever he was sick from.

But never ask him to join a prison break out or even ask why he was there in the first place.

At first, he would only tense, and gain a haunted expression and stop interacting with anything for days, even his precious ceiling of stars. The only thing he would do was huddle in the fettle position in his bed while mumbling occasionally in the strange Spanish sounding language under his breath. Later on, he would occasionally get up to write on his wall of blank papers before laying back in his bed for the next twenty four hours. This reaction became a Spooks standard, so over time, people stopped asking the mysterious past.

Since everyone stopped asking, they forgot the strangeness of the boy. He just became another standard within Arkham, a forgotten standard by most. Even Batman when he first saw him didn’t particularly _see_ him, for he was too preoccupied by his other more important investigations at the moment. Spooks became just another number within the system. The resident of cell 25.

And that was just the way he seemed to like it.

However, as everything in his young life, that moment of numb perfection was bittersweet and could only last as long as the world seemed to want to humor him with the inklings of semi-peace.

Case and point, nearly on the one year anniversary after first ‘checking into’ Arkham, something unusual happened to the boy’s regular routine. He awoke from a dreamless sleep as usual, looking at the constellations on his ceiling. With a small yawn and stretch, he jumped from his bed, picked up an orange crayon, and wrote something on one of blank sheets on his wall. Once he was satisfied with what he wrote, whatever it was only the boy would know, he carefully placed the crayon back into its container and picked up one of his drawing sheets. He simply stared at it.

“Put down that drawing, Spooks, and come here.” The boy suddenly looked up, tense. A middle aged guard stood at the edge of his cell, hand cuffs in hand. Two more stood behind him. While the one in front looked almost casual as he ran his fingers over the cool metal, the other two were tense, their hands on the butt of their guns. They gave a clear warning, try anything and you’ll be shot.

This couldn’t be good, but it wasn’t like a gun could do much to him anyway.

The boy nodded and placed the paper down and locked eyes with the older guard. “Yes, sir.” The boy’s face was blank as he walked towards them. With a slight creak, the metal bars rushed open. Almost immediately, they man handled the boy, roughly turning him and locking the hand cuffs behind his back. The boy grunted but didn’t say anything.

The inmates looked on, intrigued.

Once the men were satisfied that the boy was locked in tight, they started moving to their new location. The two trigger happy guards walked behind Spooks, staying close enough to be able to stop him if he tried anything, or so they thought, but not close enough for the boy to be in reaching distance. Where they got the thought that he would actually do anything to escape, help others escape, or even harm any of the guards, the boy had no idea.

Guards were weird like that, not that Spooks could particularly blame them.

They directed him through various hallways. The boy lazily memorized the path they took, so if someone were to try to kidnap him, he would have the perfect way back to his cell. Not that he truly thought anyone would want him, no one really wanted him. Well, there was two people, but one person he refused to ever live with in a million years and the other he was near every day.

Life at Arkham wasn’t such a bum deal in that aspect.

“Here.” The guards behind the teen pushed him harshly forward. It was unneeded, but the boy figured they wanted to be _intimidating._

Ha. Intimidation. That was a good one. They didn’t know the meaning of intimidation.

The older man was slightly gentler, as he led Spooks through the doorway and into what the boy realized to be an interrogation room. In a fraction of second, he memorized the room. One desk sat in the center of the room with two chairs pulled up to it. Well, _pulled up_ was relative _._ Everything in the room seemed to be bolted to the floor in titanium bolts. In fact, everything seemed to be _made_ of titanium, even the door. On the side of the table nearest to them two places that looked to be shackles were bolted to the desk. They looked to be made of the same material his inhibitors were. Across from him the room was more shadowed, but he could still make out a door that led to who knew where.

The man placed the teen in the chair. Robotically, he pushed the inhibitors up the boy’s arm and shackled his wrists in place. The boy watched in fascination as the inhibitors automatically adjusted to his tiny wrists. Yes, the energy drainage felt horrible but it was still interesting to see how far technology had evolved. The process was repeated to his ankles, attaching him to the chair before taking off four rings around the areas the shackles were. After checking at least a dozen times, it seemed, the man nodded and walked away from the boy.

Said teen shifted uncomfortably in seat. “Excuse me, sir, not to be ride… but …Uh…Why am I here again? Did the Warden want to talk to me?”

The man barely stopped in his stride when he answered gruffly. “You have a visitor.”

The boy started at that. “Wait… a visitor? Who-” But the older guard was already gone, walking toward the doorway on the other side of the room and leaving him alone with the other stony faced jailors. The boy sighed and slumped back in his seat, or at least slumped as much as the table let him. He forced himself to stay still, wondering nervously who was visiting him.

He thought that with his luck, it would be Batman because why not? The teen’s luck was always horrible, and Murphy seemed to have a personal vendetta with him. Well, a lot people did but that was beside the point. The fact was it would be the perfect opportunity for the universe to fuck him over more than it already had. It was practically guaranteed.

“Daniel?” The boy froze, instantly jumping out of his jumbled thoughts. No, it couldn’t be. He hadn’t heard that voice since-

The teen instantly went defensive, sitting straight in his chair and silently cursing being shackled to the desk and wanting no more than cross his arms in front of him. It was one of the first times he truly felt _exposed_ at Arkham, despite the shrinks’ best attempts. The boy glared at the man in the shadows, trying and failing to calm his panicking heart. “What are you doing here?” He growled. He mentally cursed again when he noticed his hands were slightly shaking.

The guards looked uneasy. Spooks always acted to civil to everyone, well anyone except the villains. Even so, he never acted openly hostile. Something wasn’t right.

The mystery man walked forward and into the light of the room. He had snowy white hair, long enough to be tied in a short ponytail behind him. With his crisp suit, red tie, and uptight shoulders, he looked especially professional. Even so, one could see the wrinkles under those blue eyes and the tired quality his voice held. He stared at the boy sadly, slight confusion on his face before speaking up so quietly that the guards had to strain to hear him. “I could ask you the same question…Little Badger.”

With that, nearly three years after the disappearance of Amity’s ghostly hero, nearly two years after G.I.W. conspiracy, and nearly a year after the boy’s first appearance in Arkham, the world’s only known halfas met again.

And the mystery of the boy in cell 25 started to come to a close.


	2. Dr. Fenton: The Center of a Reality

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An unexpected and unwanted visitor forces a certain shrink to act out... let's just hope she can get there in time before things get ugly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks you guys for your support! Here's chapter two. Chapter three will be updated at the same time as FF.net.   
> Insert obligatory minor cursing warning.  
> No other notes today. Happy reading!

_“I could ask you the same question… Little Badger.”_

_Little Badger. Little Badger. Little Badger._ The man’s words banged through Danny’s head, forcibly halting most coherent thought that didn’t surround the subject of the damned man in front of him. His body continued to shake involuntarily, and he struggled to keep his face blank when a trickling of cold fear shot through his heart and spread through his entire system.

When was the last time he heard that term of... endearment? No, endearment sounded wrong. A pet name? Yeah, pet name…that made sense. Vlad always wanted to make an obedient slave/son out of him. Calling him his Little Badger was just a way to dehumanize him be a part of his Fruitloopy plans and what not.

To be his perfect Little Badger and perfect little tool and perfect little evil model son.

But why was the man even here? It didn’t make sense. There would be no way that Vlad could have located him; the G.I.W. had made sure of that years ago. Officially, Danny _Fenton_ died about three years ago in some accident that the government presumably made up and Danny _Phantom_ disappeared without a trace at the same time. There could be absolutely no reason that after all this time, especially considering the overwhelming evidence of his apparent eradication, that Plasmius would still be trying to find him.

And that was another thing! How could the one person he _didn’t_ want to know his location not only find out where a dead man was but also get a one on one session with an inmate, for all intents in purposes due to the amount of inhibitors he had, was one of the most dangerous criminals within the facility?

None of it made sense, which ironically made the situation clearer and as a result, much more frustrating for the long lost halfa, Danny Fenton-Phantom.

None of this was real, and he was dreaming.

At the realization that, no, the real Vlad was not actually in front of him, his body stopped shaking. It made sense in a nonsensical way. He was in one of his stupid nightmares that refused to let him wake up until they were done torturing him.

Talk about beating himself up.

For most people, the most of detail in the room wouldn’t have led them to this conclusion, but more… detailed dreams was just another side effect of becoming a halfa.

Yay! Realistic dreams where he was either dissected in the most creative ways or lost everyone he loved or even destroyed the world were the best! Wasn’t being a freak of nature great?

Somewhere in the back of his mind he vaguely remembered Lancer saying that sarcasm was the lowest form of wit. However, that was just one tiny part of his mind that needed to be shoved and locked away for bad behavior lest it brings out more, less than desirable memories.

What made matters worse was that although the sedatives the shrinks gave made Danny’s nights nice and bearable 95 percent of the time, they had a nasty side effect when his body decided to screw him over and adapt to the amount of chemicals the facility pumped into his bloodstream. Not only did he get nightmares instead of a nice, dreamless sleep, but the stupid medicine made him have _lucid_ dreams. Jazz-, excuse him, _Dr. Fenton_ said that the sedatives made him became aware of his actions within his own personal hells instead of a simple spectator.

Not in those words, of course, but that was the general summary of her long winded explanation.

The torture didn’t even end there, oh Clockwork forbid that Danny actually caught a break for once. He couldn’t actually control his stupid extremely realistic and emotionally traumatizing dream like lucid dreamers generally had the benefits of having.

Every time he tried, his mind revolted on him…. like always.

Instead of giving him a boring dream of watching paint drying or even an annoying one where he was pestered to death by Harley and the Box Ghost, the nightmares intensified more than ten-fold. For example, say that a slightly traumatizing dream, of let’s to say, Plasmius succeeding in marrying his mom and killing his dad was interrupted by Danny’s actions due to his self-aware state. His mind would then counter his attempts to have a pleasant night for once, and the dream would transform into a nightmare where Danny turned into an ice elemental version of Dark Dan. If that wasn’t horrifying enough, he had to _feel_ the emotions of glee and satisfaction as his friends and family pleaded to him for their lives.

The one time he had that… experience (nightmare was not enough to describe what happened), he could almost feel the sickening blood trail down his fingertips as he punched a hole in Sam’s chest and clutched her heart in his razor sharp icy claws. Then with ecstatic, sadistic glee, he literally smashed it in a million pieces right in front of her. All the while, he saw the sad yet horrifyingly knowing look in Sam’s usually stubborn purple eyes fade into oblivion until they became blank forever more.

His dream-self felt nothing but intense satisfaction and almost lustful glee at the death surrounding him. He had felt this glee grow, as he destroyed everyone he had ever loved, one by one, until all was left in the area was his own ghostly form, freezing the remains around him by his mere presence.

After nearly destroying his cell in his sleep from that nightmare, he received his eighth and hopefully final inhibitor.

Danny learned never to mess with his dreams after that, which was easier said than done sometimes, especially the dialogue heavy ones like this one seemed to be.

Oh, well. Talking with Dream-Vlad was a good brush up on his acting (lying) skills.

As he stared at the older halfa, Danny wondered what role he should play. Should he be a defensive brat or a hopelessly broken version of himself before Vlad ultimately took him to be his stupid apprentice? Defensive would make more sense considering he had growled at the man earlier.

And so the boy leaned back semi-casually in his chair (or as much as he could while being shackled to the desk and chair), giving the Dream-Vlad a sharp glare, the type he would have given before everything had happened to them. Actually, some inner part of Danny was nostalgic at the normalcy of his animosity towards the older halfa, but that was something for Jazz to psychoanalyze him about when he woke up from this stupid nightmare.

He considered flashing his eyes, but thought it would be overdoing it. Instead he settled with a cold, sharp tone. “I asked first, Fruitloop. Where’s your manners? I thought you prided yourself in stuff like that.” He smirked. “What? Have you changed that much in three years?”

As he watched the projected image of his ex-arch-nemesis gape at his words, the young adult couldn’t help but find the irony (hypocrisy?) of calling someone else a fruit loop when he was so sick in the head himself.

Whatever. It wasn’t like he was talking to the real Vlad.

**[CoaSP]**

Dr. Jasmine “Jazz” Fenton knew something was off that day.

It was ridiculous to think so. Her day had been normal so far, or as normal as one’s life could be when one worked as a psychologist at Arkham.

She had woken up from her regular eight hour sleep cycle and gotten ready with nothing out of the ordinary in her morning routine. She put on her navy blue scrubs, tied back her flaming hair at the base of her neck, and made sure she had her pens and other psychologist essentials. Like all her mornings, the psychiatrist cringed as she drove through Gotham traffic before pulling up to the mental asylum. Dr. Fenton parked in her assigned place and made her way to the employee only entrance. The guards patted her down and checked if the doctor held anything unusual on her person, which there wasn’t. When she was deemed cleaned, they let her into the main building, automatically getting clocked in when the scanners recognized her face. From there she chatted a bit with the guards and other doctors before starting her shift. At the moment, Jazz was checking her schedule for the day.

No, her morning had not been out of the ordinary, so there was no reason to be fretting. However, something within the shrink’s gut told her _something_ was wrong. She just couldn’t place a finger on it.

Logically, it made no sense, and the redhead knew this. However, her sisterly instincts and years of ghost hunting made her trust this feeling. After all, it was this gut feeling that told her to work at Arkham and that turned out exceptionally well. Besides, the one time she ignored it, everything had, in an almost literal sense, fallen apart in her life.

No, she would never ignore this feeling again, no matter how ‘normal’ the day had seemed so far.

The shrink pursed her lips as she read through her schedule. Nothing different from the usual, an extra session with Number 25 but that was nothing irregular considering the facility was eager to actually get a reformed patient for once. He had been one of the few patients that actually had improvement in comparison to the other inmates. If he was technically to be counted as sane, Arkham could get their first official discharge from someone with a power level of his caliber since technically he wasn’t there for committing a crime.

Jazz nearly snorted, but the dark feeling in her gut dug deeper. That would require that he actually _wanted_ to get out. The stupid ex-hero had way too much of a stupid self-sacrificing hero-complex to understand that others wanted him out and live his life and not be trapped with these other villains that were nothing like her little-

The doctor took a breath and calmed her shaking hand, which had nearly put a hole in her schedule from the sheer force it held the paper. She couldn’t let her thoughts go down that way. The young woman had to separate her own platonic feelings towards Number 25. She had been doing so well over the near… eleven months? Yes, it had been nearly a year hadn’t it?

The doctor put the paper down on the table in front of her, looking at the colored panels and different names incomprehensibly. The feeling in her gut threatened to overwhelm her with its insistent prodding. For a moment, just one small moment, Jazz allowed herself to think about the teen that plagued her mind, Number 25… her little brother… Danny.

A small wave of despair washed over Jazz, forcing her to close her eyes. She didn’t cry. No. The woman hadn’t cried since she had first seen Danny again after thinking he had died. Even then, she only shed tears in her small little apartment in the city away from those hauntingly broken blue eyes. Instead of crying, she clawed at the edges of the desk, pressing her palms against cool metal, wishing it wasn’t as dull so the pressure could snap her out of her stupor.

Her parents had always taught her never to hate anyone (except ghosts, but they weren’t alive so apparently they didn’t count in their books). Their house had always been filled with love and understanding. Even during Danny’s freshman year of high school where everyone seemed to be in their own separate worlds, their mother and father had always assured them that they would _always_ be there for them, no matter what. They always would love them…

Jazz never thought she could ever feel true hate, but after what the Guys in White did to her life, what they did to her family, what they did to _Danny_ …

The shrink breathed deeply and shook her head. After a moment, she let go of the counter as she slowly reigned in her cantankerous emotions and forced the disturbing mental images out of her mind.

However, even as Jazz did so, she came to a resolution. She had to check on him. Screw her schedule. She had mastered her emotions years ago, and to suddenly nearly have a near emotional breakdown was not like her _at all._ Besides, this feeling in her gut made it so that Jazz couldn’t focus on anything other than the fact that _something was wrong_ and _go check on him_ _before something happens._ She would be useless to her other patients if she concentrated on Danny’s mental health and not theirs.

At least, that’s what the psychologist kept telling herself as she packed up what little she had in the break room and headed towards the scheduling office.

Jazz walked down the familiar hallways. In the back of her mind, she noticed the usual occurrences, other psychologists chatting despairingly about a certain inmate, stern looking jailers guarding the doors, the occasional shrink marking something on their chart with a frown, all the usual at Arkham.

She turned into an open archway, barely noticing the slight beeping sensors as they recognized her face. The ex-ghost hunter did, however, scan the room, just in case.

The scheduling office was a secluded room in one of the deepest regions of Arkham. Not many people went into the office itself since they usually just received a paper version every morning from one of the machines in their respective break rooms. (Arkham would have become entirely electronic, but it was expensive to get a tablet for every worker, especially considering the fragility of said tablets in a place where explosions were not an uncommon occurrence. No, they would simply be destroyed too often to actually be useful.)

The room was simple enough. Two round, pearly white tables with four equally laboratory-white chairs each were on either side of the room. There was even two vending machines on the right wall, one for snacks and the other for drinks. What made the room interesting, was the back wall.

When one walked into the scheduling office, they would think that they went into the wrong room, for at first glance, all they would see would be the snack machines and tables. However, in the left corner, there was a small opening, almost like a ticket center for a movie theater. If one were to look into this opening, they would see a computer to the left, a curtain blocking the rest of the back wall, and the scheduling manager himself on his favorite rolling chair.

The job of the scheduling manager, or the schedule master as twenty eight year old Charlie Loe liked to call himself, was more of a technical job than an organizational one. True, organization played a major factor in the job, but regulating who and where and when everyone was supposed to be was done in a complicated process of programs that would leave most people confused. The techie had both the jobs of keeping schedules organized and making sure the systems were running the way they were supposed to in order to keep the facility in order. He was the one who adapted schedules for each person while keeping track of where every patient was supposed to be. (Well, officially. Breakouts put a hole in his carefully defined schedules and were, as a result, the bane of his existence).

It was a mundane job, sure, in comparison to trying to reform super villains or making sure said villains didn’t escape, but Charlie did his part, which, in the long term, was no small feat.

It was well known that there was _something_ important beyond the curtain. Probably people relaying information so that Charlie could focus on his job and not going back and forth on the last minute schedule changes. Many people teased the man for being the Wonderful Wizard of Scheduling that hid what was really beyond the curtain. He would laugh at their jokes, but would always say that he had no jurisdiction to reveal what was going on back there and that they really didn’t want to know anyway.

When asked why, he would simply shrug, smirk, and say it would ruin the fun behind the mystery.

Either way, if one wanted to do something that wasn’t written in their schedules without annoying Charlie too much, they would need to ask him directly. After all, he was the man who gave them their shifts, and if one angered him they could very well get the short end of the scheduling stick.

However, Dr. Fenton wanted to inform Charlie of her schedule change for multiple reasons. One: It was just plain rude to disturb someone’s work, especially when their job revolved around scheduling everyone else’s day. Two: the two became sort of friends after Charlie helped convince the Warden to give Jazz more sessions with Number 25.

Overall, it was imperative that the scheduling manager should know of the situation and help her… for Danny’s sake.

Jazz walked up to the counter, clipboard and schedule close to her person. She waited a moment for the man to notice her, but then realized Charlie was too distracted by whatever was on his computer. He reminded her of Tucker in that sense, even if their looks were almost entirely different. Charlie was pale. As in, vampire pale (she would say pale as a ghost, but Danny’s ghost form being tanner than his human one disproved that saying). The thousands of freckles that dotted his face, however, made his skin look tanner than it actually was. He had long, stringy red hair that he didn’t bother to tie back, since his Arkham employee hat kept most of it out of his face anyway. He had a long nose, a baby face, and wide eyes that crinkled a bit when he grinned his mischievous looking grin. The only similarity the two boys would have had were their green eyes. Even then, Tucker’s eyes were more of a tealish green, much like her own. In contrast, this man’s eyes were a deep evergreen.

She was glad he didn’t look a lot like Tucker. It would have been nearly impossible to talk to Charlie otherwise.

The psychologist smiled at the man. “Mr. Loe? May I speak with you?” Charlie jumped slightly from the sudden noise, looking sharply in her direction. When he seemed to realize that no, she wasn’t a super villain threatening him with a weapon, he blushed, embarrassed and relaxed in the chair. To his credit, though, he acted as if nothing unusual had occurred and turned away from the computer and towards the counter, his hands resting on the arms of the chair.

“Dr. Fenton? Is there an issue with your schedule?” She nodded.

“Unfortunately, I have something to do this afternoon, and as I had a session planned for Number 25, I would like to shift my schedule to see him immediately. He has attached himself to me as his center, and in order to improve his well-being, it is imperative that he gets the proper amount of contact with myself in order to continue to count on some form of stability within his psychological plane.” She finished as professionally as possible.

Jazz was quite proud of her little speech. While she didn’t actually have anything to go to this afternoon, the woman had a feeling whatever made her uneasy would take up the rest of her day. Plus, her excuse sounded professional and plausible, or at least she thought so.

The techie starred at her for a moment before shaking his head in what seemed like amusement. “If you wanted to see him, you could have just said so.” She blinked as the man turned his computer and started typing on it.

“What? I don’t know what you’re talking about. I want to assure that my patient has a stable environment.” The man snorted. He paused in his typing and gave her a pointed look.

“A stable environment at Arkham? Really?” Jazz couldn’t find a good answer to that and the techie knew it, but she kept her expression even. Charlie smirked, shaking his head in amusement again. “Look, I’m not here for interrogation. That’s your job.”

“It’s not interrogation!” To her annoyance, he simply chuckled and continued typing. After a few more clicks, he leaned slightly back, arm closest to her on the top of the chair the other still on the mouse. There was a softer expression on his face than before.

“I know you care about Spooks. As much as you like to hide it, nearly everyone here can see that.” Jazz pursed her lips, but didn’t comment otherwise. Charlie sighed and looked back at his computer. “Fine. Whatever. By the way, you can’t see him, and it’s not because your attitude.” He added at her hostile look. “Look, if I could, I would reschedule everything to let you have your little psych session with the kid, but he’s busy right now.”

She tried not to physically freeze when her insides gave a nasty, piercing lurch. Jazz swallowed and took a breath. After calming herself, she asked evenly. “Busy how?”

He arched an eyebrow at her reaction then looked back at his computer. “Well… it looks like he’s… well that’s weird…” Charlie frowned scratching the top of his head with his free hand.

Another lurch. “What’s weird?” The man shook his head in confusion.

“Well, it says here that Spooks got himself a visitor in one of the interrogation offices, number four? Yeah. Number four. And lookie here, it’s not just any visitor, it’s….” He read the name a few times, making sure he didn’t read it wrong. “it’s…Vladimir Masters?” He didn’t notice Jazz freezing in place nor her widening eyes. “Huh. Why would a billionaire want to visit someone like Spooks?” He shook her head, frown still on his face. “It’s weird. What do you think Dr.- Huh? Dr. Fenton?”

When Charlie had turned back to the shrink, she was already gone. Only the sound of shoes tapping against tiles echoing down the hallway left any clue she had been there.

“Well, you’re welcome.” He grumbled, turning slightly towards his computer and reading the billionaire’s name again in the schedule. He frowned deeper. Something occurred to him, and he scratched his head again. “I wonder why no one told me of the schedule change…Weird.” He again mumbled at the machine. Then Charlie, scheduling manager/techie, thought of the weirdness no more, for at that very moment, a guard walked up to him to discuss changing shifts next weekend, so he could go his kid’s birthday party.

Jazz rushed down the halls in a mad rush, ignoring the startled cries of the people around her. After practically running down a series of confusing turns every which way, she walked into the observation room for the interrogation chamber number four. The room was tiny, only having a one way bullet proof mirror with speakers to hear the conversations in the next room. There was only enough space for four to five people to stand comfortably. As the rest of the facility, the room was covered floor to ceiling with pearly white tile. At the moment, only one other person occupied the space, one of the head guards. The middle aged Mr. Rusher, aka the bane of existence.

Of course it had to be him.

The man sharply turned towards her at her entrance, instantly muting the conversation with a quick push of the button, the one-way mirror becoming shadowed as well. His eyes narrowed slightly. “Ms. Fenton, what are you doing here?”

The shrink suppressed a scowl at the guard. The man didn’t respect her authority quite possibly due to her young age. He treated her like a child rather than the respected doctor that she truly was. The only reason she didn’t report him was because he treated Danny nicer than most of the other guards did, even if the only reason he did so was the same exact reason why he was treating Jazz like she was inferior to him.

While she had the willpower not to scowl, the psychologist did glare at him. “What am I doing here? Number 25 is _my_ patient. Did you forget that? Why did no one tell me that he had a visitor? Any and all changes to his environment should be sent through me or did someone forget to inform you of that?”

He pursed his lips and Jazz could see the disbelief hidden beneath his eyes. “Ms. Fenton-”

“Dr. Fenton,” She corrected quickly. “And as his doctor, I have every right to know what is happening to him. And before you correct me about the supposed trustworthiness of higher class citizens, which to be completely honest I have little trust for, I don’t care if Vlad Masters is the President of the United States, I should be here doing my job and slate the person or at the very least _be informed of_ the person whowill be conversing with my patient who may I remind you is deemed _unstable_.” She let out a sigh, releasing the pent up frustration and anger that coiled in her heart before staring determinately at the baffled guard.

It was silent as they stared the other down. After what seemed like forever, the guard finally let out a disgruntled sigh and looked away. “Fine _… Dr._ Fenton.”

She smiled, ignoring the obvious distain in his voice. “Thank you. Now if you would please turn on the speakers and clear the window? I would like to actually know what’s going on with my patient.”

He grumbled something unintelligible under his breath but did as he was told. The guard pressed a couple buttons and with that, the mirror became clear once more, and the previously mentioned inmate’s voice poured through the speakers.

“ _What? Cat catch your tongue, Fruitloop? Other than that creepy white one that is. I mean, really? You named the cat_ Maddie _? Could you get more obsessive?_ ” Jazz did a quick look over on Danny. He was locked in place to the chair and desk, but otherwise looked unharmed. Actually, he was looking pretty well considering he was talking to Vlad… too well.

Her eyes darted the billionaire. To say he was surprised would be an understatement. The man was gaping stupidly at Danny like the boy had grown a third head. She looked over his physical state. Vlad looked as crisp as ever, she supposed, but the years of grief had really done a number on him. What was once unnaturally white hair had grayed and lost its sheen. Even from this distance, Jazz could see the tried wrinkles under his eyes, and she found it was hard to be entirely annoyed him for going behind her back to see her little brother.

Not that she wasn’t still mad. Jazz just wasn’t entirely angry as she should have been at the man. After all, just by being here, Vlad was endangering the year worth of progress she had on getting Danny used to some form of normalcy.

Danny shifted uncomfortably in his seat, snapping Vlad out of apparent shock. The billionaire looked at him oddly before speaking in a low voice. “ _Well, it seems you’ve changed less than I thought you would have. Do you realize that I was under the impression that you were dead?”_

The boy rolled his eyes. _“We’re already dead or did you forget? Memory loss is common with people your age after all. What’s wrong,_ Masters _? Old age finally getting to ya?_ ” The younger halfa smirked. Jazz watched as the other guards in the room shifted in place nervously, their eyes darting between Vlad and Danny as if trying to make some unknown connection. Vlad’s frown deepened, and Jazz could see a bit of anger flaring beneath those aged blue eyes.

It was that instant that Jazz knew something terribly was wrong. Danny would never have casually said something that could endanger his hidden identity, especially when if there were other people in the room. She glanced at Rusher. He was writing something down with a small frown on his face. The doctor couldn’t see what he was writing from where she was standing, but nothing Rusher could be writing would be good for her little brother.

Jazz knew she would get a lashing about this later, but at the moment all she wanted was for Danny’s identity to stay a secret. Almost as quick as the Flash, she pulled the notepad from out from under the guard.

“What are you-”

“Get Masters out of there _now,_ erase all the footage of this session, and don’t repeat a word of what you have heard in here.” The guard looked taken about slightly from her sudden orders but, to her annoyance and ever growing frustration, he quickly turned hostile.

“What are you talking about? And give me that back! They just started-” She cut him off before he could finish.

“Number 25 has trouble distinguishing reality from his dreams... or nightmares as the case may be. Based on his reactions at this moment and his previous sessions, I believe that right now he doesn’t know he’s talking to someone in real life. It is imperative that we get Mr. Masters out of there before the situation escalates.”

_“It seems like your wit hasn’t diminished during your stay.”_ Vlad’s voice blasted through the speakers, sounding almost relieved, although his annoyance was the clearest emotion.The shrink refocused on their conversation, watching their reactions. _“Tell me, why are you here? Did Jasmine think it would be for the best to hide you from me? Does she think me a monster?”_

_“Once a Fruitloop always a Fruitloop.”_ Danny grumbled, though he obviously looked less sure of himself. The young adult started to shrink back into the chair, if only unconsciously. His fingers started to twitch again against the cuffs on the desk as his right foot tapped nervously on the floor. Jazz saw Vlad frown once more.

Rusher chuckled darkly, pulling Jazz out of her observations. “Why do you need to erase all the footage?” His eyes sparked with a certain cruelty. “Trying to hide something, _Fenton_?”

Jazz pursed her lips, anger welling up inside her. However, she would not let him overpower her for his own self-satisfaction and self-assurance. Rusher was simply another bully from her high school days. “The warden has specifically told us that any and all information on 25 should be erased when dealing with his sessions. You should have known that, _Rusher._ ”

There was another stare down between the two of them. Jazz’s gut feeling was screaming at her to push the man out of the way, go into the interrogation room, drag Vlad by his stupid pony tail, and give him the yelling of the century. Fortunately, she was more professional than that. She knew when to redirect her more… unorthodox emotions to be productive.

If only the rest of society could know how to do that.

Finally, much to Jazz’s relief, Rusher sneered and looked away. “Alright, _Dr._ Fenton, have it your way, but if Masters starts looking to shoot someone down, it’s not my ass that’s being targeted. Got it?”

Jazz smiled sweetly at him, not at all phased by this threat. “Thank you for your concern. I’ll keep that in mind.”

He scoffed as the laid against the back wall of the observation room, eyeing Masters warily. “I’m not getting the guy out of there either.”

She nodded. “Very well. I will talk to Mr. Masters. Keep the mirror fogged until I come back in.” Jazz walked past him, ignoring his scathing expression. As she reached the hallway outside the door, she heard him mumble under his breath.

“Very well, _ma’am_. _”_ The door slammed shut.

The moment the door closed, Jazz let out a strangled sigh. She wanted to throttle Rusher sometimes. He thought her as the child yet acted so immature and unprofessional that it was downright hypocritical of him to look down on her. Case and point, Jazz was 90 percent sure that Rusher would probably not take her order, but instead, was going to watch the conversation play out, ignoring her orders, ignoring her authority, ignoring her years of studying and hard work, and therefore, insulting her in almost every way possible.

That man was lucky that he was so good to ‘Spooks,’ or he would be out of Arkham faster than he could say ‘Ms. Fenton’ in that stupid, infuriating tone of his.

But enough of that idiot. Jazz’s first priority was to get Danny back to his cell and away from Vlad, which meant she had to get to the interrogation room.

All the interrogations and observation rooms, numbers one through ten, were connected by one long, two person wide hallway. Not unlike the pearly white of the rest of the building, the hallway had a more industrial version of the continuity. The walls, ceiling, and floor were covered entirely made of titanium metal lined with the material used in inhibitors, each door having a face recognition software to get into the rooms.

Jazz quickly walked to the door for the interrogation room, waited impatiently as the system slowly scanned her face, and took a deep breath before walking into the open door.

Four heads turned to her at her entrance. The two guards looked entirely confused to the point of awestruck. Poor guys were new and stuck under Rusher of all people. Danny looked surprised for a second before his eyes widened almost comically, darting between the billionaire and the shrink.

Vlad looked startled as well. At least for a second. Then he smiled with what she supposed was him trying to be polite. “Oh, Dr. Fenton. What are you doing here?” He asked, his eyes furrowed in ‘confusion.’

His reaction would have been more convincing if his eyes didn’t tell her that he was furious at her. Unfortunately for Jazz, his scathing looks could actually kill. Fortunately for her, he had to play his part as the concerned billionaire much like she as the protective psychologist.

She ignored him for a moment and looked at the guards in the back whom had been looking at Vlad. “Guards, you are dismissed. Mr. Rusher will handle the situation from here. This order is directly from the warden herself. No information learned or said will leave this room. You heard nothing. You know nothing. Got it?” They were unsure for a second. However, the two nearly ran out of the room at her glare.

“Impressive.” Vlad commented as the door slammed shut at their exit, but his anger didn’t diminish in the least. “Now tell me why you are here again and interrupting my value time?”

Jazz frowned slightly, flipping through her papers for a second as if to check them and looked up at the billionaire. “Mr. Masters, I’m sorry for the interruption, but there seems to have been a misunderstanding.”

He arched an eyebrow, the fury in his eyes increasing. “Oh? What misunderstanding would that be, my dear?” It was amazing that he kept his voice even.

“Patient Number 4025, the resident of cell 25, or Number 25 as he is to be known as, is not to have visitors of any kind unless approved by both myself and the warden.” Jazz finished. She gave a reassuring nod towards Danny who had all but froze in his chair (no, there was no actual ice… hopefully).

“I hardly see the confusion. Am I not a trustworthy individual in the eyes of this facility?” He tried to look concern, but there was a small smirk on his lips.

“Of course you are, Mr. Masters, but-” He cut her off, his smirk growing.

“Then I don’t see why I must leave my session with _Number 25_ as I am a trusted member of society.”

“My trust in you has nothing to do with this situation. It’s my patient’s health. Please. Step inside so I may explain.”

He didn’t budge from his position. In fact, he place his placed his hand on the chair opposite of Danny and clenched his hand possessively on it. “I believe that whatever you say there may be said in front of your patient. Trust is important as you say, and I think this is the perfect opportunity to show the extent of it.”

“Yes, but 25 here trusts me to know there are reasons why I keep certain things away from him. Maybe for his own good. Maybe for the good of others. It depends on the information. However, people have their secrets Masters, and in your profession, I’m sure you know all about that.” She finished.

Vlad actually did pause at this. He watched her, and Jazz could practically see him putting the double meaning behind her words together, his fingers thumping on the metal chair.

Suddenly the thumping stopped, and he placed his hands behind his back, holding himself up even greater than before. He looked towards her, nearly glaring. She could have sworn he might have flashed his eyes, but that might have been her imagination. Slowly, Vlad took a few steps toward her until they were nearly face to face. While he was much taller than her, it didn’t diminish the intensity between their stare down. His eyes were calculating and untrusting just as hers were hardened and unrelenting.

After a moment, he spoke quietly, his tone dark. “If I were to leave this room right now would you tell me everything about your patient?”

“I will tell you everything I feel I should disclose to you and can disclose to you for my patient’s safety.” She countered.

He scowled at her, his voice nearly a growl. “I thought I was a trustworthy individual. Did that change in the span of this conversation?” So that was it. Vlad thought she was treating him like a villain. Like before… this all happened. Of course, the Fruitloop would come to that conclusion.

She rolled her eyes and whispered. “No, but eyes and ears are everywhere and I would hate for the wrong person to overhear the something and take advantage of anyone.” Then she spoke louder so the microphones could hear her. “If you would like more information about Number 25 here is my number. I’m sorry I can’t give you more information over a file. Everyone, even villains have _some_ privacy. Again, I’m sorry for the inconvenience.” She took a second to write down what she needed and handed the paper towards Vlad who merely looked at it a second in faux interest before turning into actual surprise.

Jazz saw a bit of true humor spark in his eyes as he smirked triumphantly, folding the paper neatly into his jacket pocket. “It seems like someone has trust issues. You might want to have someone to help _you_ , my dear.” She rolled her eyes, but straightened again at his over dramatic sigh. “But very well, I will leave for now. I expect some answers. I do want to know why I must leave my session when we just were getting started. Would you please move aside so I may leave?”

“Of course, Mr. Masters.” She said, moving to let the billionaire through. “The exit is at the end of the hall where a guard will lead you out of the building. But I have to say, one might ask why a billionaire would go all the way across the country just to visit one patient.”

Vlad rolled his eyes at her a smirk on his face. “Oh, both you and I know the answer to that one, my dear. I do have an eyes for the unusual you see, and an unnamed, unknown patient with strange and powerful abilities is something I have to see.” She pursed her lips, saying nothing. He chuckled at her reaction. “I will be seeing you, Jasmine. I look forward to our little _chat_ after your talk with Number 25 here.” His eyes lingered on Danny for a moment but stopped at Jazz’s look. Vlad smirked one last time before strutting out of the interrogation office, leaving tense mood in his wake.

“I’m sure you are...” She mumbled. Jazz didn’t let her eyes off Vlad until the door clicked behind him. Even then, she waited for a moment, just to make sure he wouldn’t enter once more. Vlad would do something like that just to annoy her.

“J..Jazz? What’s going on?” Danny’s voice shook her out of watchful stance. She turned towards him, slowly of course, as to not to startle him. Her little brother, dear Clockwork, he was looking up at her with slightly widened eyes, fear trying and failing to be concealed from her. His hands were shaking violently, his fingers clenched in a ball and biting into his palms. The boy’s eyes were pleading, wanting Vlad to just be some hallucination in his head instead of a potential nightmare brought to life.

As much as Jazz wanted to reassure him that this was all a dream, that Vlad wasn’t there, she couldn’t. Cementing the difference between dreams and reality was the first priority to his recovery. Even though she was his big sister, they weren’t little kids anymore. She couldn’t hold him until he fell asleep and tell him that the demons would go away if he closed his eyes and willed them to go away with all his might. He had his own inner demons to conquer and, as much it pained her, shielding him from the truth would only backfire in the end.

She hated her job sometimes.

Jazz placed her clipboard down on the desk and slowly walked towards her brother, inwardly hating that she had to treat him like a frightened animal. As she came close, she gently placed her hand on top of his clenched one, rubbing gently circles on the fist. He tensed at first, startled by the contact, but then started relaxing under the familiar touch. Once Jazz felt like he was ready, she knelt down until she was looking into his slightly less frightened blue eyes.

“Jazz?” He asked again, more desperate sounding this time. She smiled softly at him, continuing to rub small circles on his fist.

“You’re awake. This isn’t a dream, but you’re okay and I won’t let anyone hurt you.” The boy’s eyes widened. He shook his head furiously as if to deny her words.

“He couldn’t have-” He shut his eyes suddenly, holding them so tight that it probably hurt. Jazz placed a gently hand on his shoulder to bring him back before he got too deep inside his own head. Danny flinched slightly, moving away as much as he could away from her.

She took a small breath before speaking. “Vlad is here. You are awake. Repeat that for me.”

“No.”

“You can’t deny he’s here.” Jazz said more firmly. “Even if you don’t want to get better, you need to know the difference between reality and fantasy.”

He pursed his lips and turned his head away from her. Jazz watched as his eyes opened again, looking at his right fist unseeingly. He spoke in a whisper.

“So I’m awake?”

“Yes.” She confirmed.

He paused before continuing, his hands tense again. “And Vlad is…here?” He questioned.

“Yes.” Jazz simply continued rubbing her calming circles, waiting for Danny to respond. Suddenly, his shoulders slumped, and he groaned.

“Shit.” The shrink nearly rolled her eyes. The only reason she didn’t say anything about his language was because she knew there was little to nothing she could do about. They were in a mental asylum for super villains. There wasn’t much she could do to censor what went through his ears. Besides, he was eighteen… oh, Clockwork he was eighteen, technically an adult. An adult who shouldn’t be told by their older sisters that they could or could not curse.

Danny was eighteen, and she had to talk to him like he was five.

She resisted the urge to physically shake the idea out of her head. That was another thought that Jazz had to dwell on _later_ lest she have another emotional breakdown in the worst possible of places.

Jazz let out a shaky breath, trying to look into Danny’s eyes. “Now, what are you going to do when you go back to your cell?”

He snorted. “Bang my head against the wall until I pass out or wake up from this nightmare?”

“25…” She said, her tone warning. He turned suddenly to her, his eyes showing slight betrayal before angering.

“What do you want me to do!? Pretend that everything is alright and that the Fruitloop over there isn’t going to come into the night and take me away and-” He stopped when the shrink clenched her hand on his shoulder. He bit his lip and tried to look away, but Jazz placed a soft yet firm hand that had been on his fist onto his cheek and forced him to look into her eyes.

“He’s not going to take you away.” She said, her tone leaving no room for argument. “I’m not going to let him.” Danny watched her for a moment, his eyes calculating and scared. His gaze flickered away from hers and settled at looking at her wrist.

When he spoke again, his voice was merely a whisper. “How did he find out where I was in the first place? How can this be real... I...” He closed his eyes once more. “Jazz for once, why can’t this be a dream?” He asked desperately.

She sighed and allowed Danny to rest his cheek on the entirety of her palm. She brushed her thumb lightly back and forth not unlike her calming circles from earlier. He tensed slightly, again, but then pressed deeper into her palm. After a moment, she whispered quietly in his ear. “I don’t know how he found you, but rest assured, I will find out.”

They stayed like that for a while, both trying to calm themselves for different reasons. However, while Jazz wanted to stay in the little world the two of them created, she knew that she had to face the real world eventually. She sighed. “Now, 25, what are you going to do when you get into your cell?”

“Sleep?”

“No,” The doctor stopped her thumb and stared directly into Danny’s eyes, icy blue colliding with stern teal. “You will get one of your crayons and write in your Real section that ‘Vlad and I talked in interrogation in room four.’ Understand?” Danny tried to look away but Jazz’s hand stopped him from turning. Instead he glared at the titanium arm of the chair that separated them.

He bit his lip. “But-”

“Do you understand, mister?”

He laughed humorlessly, still not looking at her. “You sound like Mom.”

“And I'll keep acting like her too until you agree.” When he didn’t say anything, she sighed and squeezed his shoulder. “Please? For me?”

Danny looked back at Jazz’s eyes, pleading for her to change her mind. She gave him a stern look once more, and he sighed in defeat. “Fine. Vlad was here and I talked to him in interrogation room four…” He smirked dryly. “And Dr. Fenton is a pushy, know-it-all.”

She laughed quietly and smiled back. “I’ll ignore that last one.” Her face grew serious again. “Now, I’m going to leave the room and have Mr. Rusher take you to your cell, okay?”

Danny looked unsure, like he might not accept this deal, but then gave in with a sigh, slumping slightly into his sister’s palm. “...Okay…” He rested for a second or two before biting his lip and whispering unsurely. “Jazz?”

“Yeah?”

He took a breath and continued, still quiet. “How do you know that… that he isn’t going to get me? He’s a fruit loop, _the_ Fruitloop… How can you stop him?”

Jazz had to look away for a moment. This had been the conversation that she had been dreading ever since she had found out Danny was alive. She couldn’t say everything she needed to at the moment since she was pretty sure Rusher ignored her orders and was watching them.

No, at the moment, Danny only needed to know the basics. She smiled reassuringly and leaned closer to his ear. “A lot has changed since you’ve been gone. Vlad… Vlad isn’t as bad as he was before. It doesn’t excuse what he did today or what he has done before this mess happened but…” She tried to find the right words to describe Vlad. Honestly, she didn’t particularly know either. “He’s different.” She concluded. “And he won’t try to take you away if he knows if it’s better for you to stay here. That I _will_ guarantee.”

Danny looked like he was about to protest, but stopped. His expression changed into a confused one as he stared. He shook his head and asked Jazz quietly. “Are things going to change?” He sounded like a small child being told they were going to move away from a place they’ve known all their life.

She wanted to hug him to comfort him, but knew she couldn’t. Instead Jazz aimed to reassure him, if only a small amount. “I don’t know, Danny… I don’t know, but I do know one thing. I will do my best to keep you safe. That’s a promise.”

He bit his lip at her look, emotion brimming in his blue eyes. Suddenly he looked down again at the cuffs, seemingly trying to hide his face. However, Jazz could see a small smile grace his lips. “Thank you.” He whispered.

Jazz smiled as well and leaned in close and whispered. “Love you, little brother.”

His smile grew slightly, and he replied, matching her volume. “Love you too, Jazz. Just…” He bit his lip again, looking worried. “Just be careful.”

She rolled her eyes. “Of course. Being reckless is your job. _I’m_ the careful one.”

“Right…” Jazz didn’t miss his unsureness and the increased wariness in his tone as he tried to scrunch himself up into the chair and make himself as small as possible. She watched him revert into himself, closing off all emotions and keeping his face blank. He did this once he had enough talking for one day. Even an overprotective big sister could only do so much.

Mentally, Jazz sighed and stood up from her position on the ground, ignoring her protesting muscles. Then, like a script from a movie, she smiled down brightly at him, trying to keep her expression reassuring and optimistic. “I will see you tomorrow, and remember what I said, 25. Real and not real.” She walked back to her position behind the chair opposite of Danny, picking up the nearly forgotten clipboard.

Danny shifted slightly in his seat and gave her one last look. Nothing. There was absolutely no emotion in his icy blue eyes. It was like he thought he was looking at a stranger instead of his sister. He looked away and back down at his hands, his fingers tapping at the cuffs impatiently. “Fine.” He replied, his voice even.

And then they were done. It was his trigger word. Once, he said he was ‘fine’ or his day was ‘fine’ or that something or another was ‘fine,’ he wouldn’t say another word until their next session. She hated the word ‘fine.’

She actually did sigh out loud this time, shaking her head before walking back towards the shadowed looking door. Jazz paused, the feeling in her gut wanting her to have one last look at her little brother.

And so she did.

Jazz watched him for one last moment, eyes lingering to take in every detail on his form. Messy black hair had grown until it reached the bottom of his neck, the hair easily being able to be made into a pony tail if he had a tie to tie it back. His bangs nearly covered his once shining blue eyes, eyes that had turned icy with distrust, unfreezing only in her presence or occasionally the warden’s. He was being fed well enough, (Jazz had saw to that the moment she saw his malnutrition), but that didn’t mean he wasn’t still skinny. While his skin didn’t cling to his bones on his arms or legs, Jazz would probably be able to count at least a couple ribs if he were to lift his shirt. The round boyish face he once had was changed in favor of a more chiseled one, although he did retain full cheeks and their mother’s high cheekbones. Light stubble dotted the bottom of his chin and the side of his face. Absentmindedly, Jazz thought he needed a shave. While the facial hair make it harder for people to recognize him, it also didn’t particularly _fit_ him.

Or at least that was what her big sister mentality was thinking.

The orange uniform, the stubble, the older features, all of these made him look older yet younger at the same time. It was like a mismatched puzzle trying to create one picture, all the pieces technically fitting but not creating what was supposed to in the end. He was a mixture of the kidnapped fifteen year old, the hardened hero, and the tortured, guilty soul all wrapped up into one.

Jazz stared at her brother for what seemed like an eternity, taking in his form. She wanted to make him better, but she didn’t know how. If she didn’t think Desiree would change the wish and make it worse, Jazz would have tried to use her in some way to make Danny’s pain to go away.

But alas, fate had never been kind to them.

The shrink sighed softly one last time and turned back towards the door, determined once more. She would find a way to make him better. She had to. Until then, she would do her best to help Danny in any way possible.

Meaning, it was time to deal with an annoyed Fruitloop.


	3. Vlad Masters: The Catalyst to Change

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which sanity is limited, but there are plenty of teas and cookies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to chapter 3!  
> Warnings:  
> Character opinions- character opinions are not necessarily my own. As such, I'm apologizing to city dweller in advance.  
> Esperanto- In this story, it is a symbol-like language, not a character based one. This is done because I like the idea of Esperanto being symbol based like Japanese and Chinese. Also, it will make it harder to recognize the words being written by characters.  
> Cursing- Minor cursing warning as always
> 
> Enjoy! Happy Reading!  
> Disclaimer: I do not own Danny Phantom or Young Justice. All rights go to their respective owners. Please support their official releases.

* * *

 

_“I will see you tomorrow, and remember what I said, 25. Real and not real.”_

**[CoaSP]**

Spooks was naturally cautious. Everyone who watched the boy for five minutes could figure that out. He would always watch people as they walked by, eyes calculating and untrusting. He always tried to keep his back to the wall whenever he walked, seeming to think that an attacker would confront him anytime, anywhere. The only time he allowed his back to be open was when he was being escorted by the guards. Even then, he would always be tense, ready for action at a moment’s notice.

However, the greatest evidence of his caution was that no one knew anything personal about him other than the fact he had a dead sister. Some argued that he was just a private person, but most considered his lack of communication a result of being barely an adult in one of the world’s highest security prisons.

Yes, saying the boy was cautious was like saying Batman was slightly intimidating, a severe understatement. But even to the residents of Arkham who were used to his caution, today Spooks seemed jumpier than usual.

When the boy returned from being taken by the guards, he looked… frazzled to say the least. His shoulders were slumped slightly, his eyes darted nearly everywhere so fast his head should have been hurting, and his right fingers were tapping his handcuffs without any sign of stopping. The inmates silently agreed that saying the boy was a little worse for wear was the understatement of the century…or at least of the day.

The middle aged guard that gripped the boy’s shoulders in what looked to be a painful grab seemed annoyed. Previously, he seemed almost kind, but now he was obviously irritated, which was never a good thing with Rusher as many of the veteran inmates could vouch for.

Spooks’ cell slid open with a small clatter, and he was pushed roughly with enough force that he stumbled into the metal leg of his bed. The boy looked up, slightly surprised. His body tensed as Rusher spoke to him with a growl.

“Try anything, and you’re life will be hell.” Spooks froze, eyes wide as the guard started to take off the handcuffs. Some of the inmates smirked, glad that the brat was finally getting some rough treatment while others were just as shocked as the boy was. When Harley later heard of what happened, she would blink for a few moments before smiling sweetly in a way that sent shivers up even the most hardened villains’ spines... except for the Joker who would have simply laughed at her reaction if he had been there.

(Thirteen days later, Mr. Rusher would be out for medical leave, suddenly being unable to stop laughing to the point of near suffocation. The Joker was blamed for the incident, but Harley’s triumphantly malicious smirk for the next week told the residents of Arkham another story, though no one had any proof that it was her.)

Once Spooks was unshackled, the guard once more pushed him roughly towards the corner of the cell. Because the boy was unprepared, he stumbled clumsily into the cell, barely catching himself in time to keep his head from hitting the back wall.

His head snapped up once he was steady, though he kept his hand on the wall just in case. “W..w..why?” He asked quietly, sounding confused.

But the guard didn’t answer. He simply glared at him one last time before grumbling something under his breath, closing the boy’s cell with a rough clash. Spooks watched as he left, betrayal obvious on his face. He stared at the guard’s retreating back, rushing up to the bars to see Rusher leave.

His knuckles turned white with the force he gripped the bars. At the same time his face showed the conflicting emotions running through his mind. The inmates watched, intrigued, at what would occur, hanging on the edge of their metal beds. What will Spooks do? Will he just take it? Will he finally grow a backbone towards the guards? He sure looked affronted enough to do something drastic. The inmates were practically buzzing with excitement. This was it! What would Arkham’s favorite mystery do today?

Nearly all were watching in anticipation of the show. Sometimes the soap opera that was Arkham was the only entertainment these villains got. If it was a show they wanted, a show they would get.

But you know how the saying goes, be careful what you wish for.

The torment of emotion suddenly stopped as Spook’s face became blank. Almost robotically, he lowered his arms and backed away from the bars.

The boy walked back towards his bed and picked up a couple crayons from the floor. If he cared to know, the crayons were red and blue. Weird, to pick of the colors of tranquility and aggression. Maybe they were to represent something else, a warning sign maybe? A part of him trying to tell himself to stop and keep calm lest a disaster would occur? Or was it just random chance?

Who knew? Either way, he wasn’t paying attention to the colors.

He turned towards his wall of blank pages, which had been filled over the year with symbol-like writing. On the corner of the papers, people could vaguely make out shades of green where the boy had used… something to put up the pages. Many inmates thought he used his abilities to put them up, since they never saw him with tape. However, many dismissed that idea entirely, arguing that since the boy obviously only had super strength and ice powers, nothing more, nothing less.

Others thought of his haunting green eyes and didn’t think the idea was very farfetched. However, they kept it to themselves as to not end up like the Riddler. When he brought the possibility up, the villain was shunned and pranked for two months before being transferred to Belle Reve after being declared unfit for Arkham.

Many villains had a laugh at the Riddler’s embarrassment.

Spooks walked sluggishly to the wall. He stared at the previous notes that he made, muttering something under his breath as he scanned the pages. Column by column, he kept mumbling and reading the symbols until he reached the last note in the middle of the third row of papers. For a moment, he simply stared at blank pages as if trying to decide something, his dominant hand switching between the red and blue crayons.

Then, as if in a trance, he dropped the blue crayon on the floor, raised the red crayon the pristine white paper, and started writing.

He wrote slowly at first, his hand shaking so the symbols were merely a mush of color. It was as if a young child was writing for the first time. But after a few unsteady minutes, he picked up the pace, writing faster and faster, the symbols unconsciously getting larger as he desperately tried to write his thoughts. If one were to pay attention, they would see the symbols repeat over again. It seemed that Spooks was writing the same statement, whatever it may be, in an almost desperate frenzy as if to convince himself of its existence.

He placed his hand on the wall above him to steady himself, accidently smudging his previous musings, not that he cared at the moment. As Spooks trailed down lower to the floor, he let himself out of his crouched position and nearly slammed to the floor and onto his knees. However, despite the pain he must have been feeling, he didn’t stop his writing.

This probably would have continued on for hours, judging by the irrational, obsessive look on his face. If everything in the world was as physically nearly indestructible as Spooks was, it would have. Fortunately, crayons were not known for their strength, considering they could be crushed by five year olds. As such, with the iron-like grip that the unstable super powered young adult held the tool, as he desperately ground the thing into the wall, the crayon broke miserably with an audible snap.

Spooks blinked confusedly at what had happened. He brought his hand up, examining it with an odd fascination. He watched as the remains of the crayon smeared across his palms and crumbled between his fingertips. The little crumbles fell to the floor like red snowflakes, possibly staining the pure white tile.

He simply stared, blinking at the color incomprehensibly. Spooks cocked his head to the side, examining the tile in confusion. Then, as if something clicked in his mind, his body tensed as he laid staring at the stains in horror. With increasing loud mutterings of “no, no no, No, NO!” under his breath, he stumbled towards his bed and fumbled to get the piece of drawing paper that he was messing with earlier that day.

Using the bed as a flat surface, he furiously tried to wipe any remains of the red crayon off his hand. After a few seconds of doing this, he seemed to realize that most of the stains were still there hands and not being even slightly deterred by his actions.

The stains seemed to be almost mocking him, reminding him of his darkened past. Or horrible nightmares. Either one worked.

Spooks snatched up the paper, and using the untainted side, scrubbed at the stains at his palms, the back of his hand, in between his fingers. Everywhere he could get. At the moment, it seemed the boy’s very existence was determined on getting the bright red coloring off his hands.

After what seemed like hours, he finally stopped. Spooks was breathing heavily, flipping his hand back and forth frantically to see if the red was gone. Once it seemed that he deemed the appendage clean, he carefully crumpled up the stained drawing paper and rolled it under his bed.

Spooks didn’t give the paper a second glance. He simply slowly placed himself on his bed, and facing the wall, held his knees to his chest, holding onto his arms painfully to keep himself in a tight ball. Not that the villains could see, but the boy had his eyes closed. Clenched more like it. It was as if he was trying to desperately to drown out the world around him.

Not that the world would comply, of course, but it was the thought that counted. Maybe for a moment, it could give him peace like the calm before the inevitable storm.

And what a storm it will be…

**[CoaSP]**

High above Gotham city but below the low reaching clouds, a lone figure scanned the surrounding area. If one were to look up at the figures exact location, they would see nothing but the smogged sky above them. That’s because the figure was hovering invisibly in the afternoon sun, nose twitching in disgust at the smell of sewage and industrial waste from heated city below him.

Vlad, whether he be Masters or Plasmius, had never been a fan of large cities. While it was true that he preferred his other properties due to their isolation from society, cities just didn’t appeal to him as much as the vast wilderness or miles of empty plains could. His dislike mostly stemmed from the lake of privacy from the close buildings, but that wasn’t all. He hated the obnoxiously bright lights that disturbed his sleep even with the darkest of curtains. He hated the endless noise from the various machines that were more nuisances to society rather than helpful inventions. But most of all, he hated the people that resided in these scum infested seas of asphalt.

Oh, butter biscuits, the people! So many people. Everywhere he went, people were pushing, yelling, chatting, coughing, sneezing, running, and just being disgusting pains in his backside. The sheer mass of humanity made these places unbearable. The only thing cities were good for were their ability to round the sheep of society into one location and keep their idiotic tendencies within confined borders and away from his person.

It didn’t help matters that Gotham was infested with super villains more persistent than the idiotic Box Ghost.

Plasmius had no idea how someone as seemingly sensible and bright as Jasmine could even stand Gotham and its inhabitants. Goodness knew Vlad would have had an aneurism before the month ended if _he_ lived here.

At the thought of the oldest Fenton child, Vlad frowned, his eyes flashing slightly. With one quick movement, he pulled the teared piece of parchment out of his ghost form’s suit and examined it, the downward quirk of his lips only dissipating slightly.

It read as follows:

_Meet me at my apartment today at 3 pm. I took the afternoon off. I will explain everything the best I can. Don’t do anything you might regret._

He placed the paper back in his suit, shaking his head. It amused him that the young woman thought she even had a _choice_ in revealing this information to him. To think, that after keeping the fact that Daniel was alive for who-knew-how long, Jasmine would have the gall to think she had some say in this situation. And “Don’t do anything you might regret”?

Ha. The irony. Did she not regret betraying him then?

One small part of him was annoyed that she didn’t even put her home address on the paper. The girl had already assumed Vlad knew it. He did, of course, but it was the principal of the matter. He was to be a guest in her humble abode in room 1203, twelfth floor, in her apartment at a complex near the eastern edge of Gotham. Jasmine should treat him as such.

Sometimes Vlad swore that this generation had no manners whatsoever.

Shaking his head again, he looked towards the local clock tower that Gotham, fortunately, had. The clock hands read a little past three.

The middle aged halfa smirked. There. Now, he could arrive at young Jasmine’s fashionably late. While he prided himself as a gentleman, making the girl wait on his behalf was only a small part of the price she would have to pay for her manipulations and lack of consideration.

The rest of price would depend on her answers tonight.

Vlad allowed himself to drift down towards the city below him, fast enough to be considered a brisk pace, but slow enough as to not let his cape ride up too much. As he plummeted towards the ground, he noted the flashing advertisements flickering on the semi-worn billboards, the hidden alley ways where all types of scum lurked, and, of course, the various types of people that littered the streets of this part of town.

In the back of his mind, he idly wondered if destroying this filthy part of town would be more helpful than decimating. After all, without all the riff raff and scum endangering Gotham, the main city might actually be hospitable. Goodness knew how many villains were in these parts of town. Unfortunately, his opinion, he knew, was an unpopular one, so he let the rat infested slum be and focused on his much more important task of locating Jasmine’s apartment.

Right before his boots scraped the top of the highest building, he suddenly swooped eastward and towards the middle class portion of the city. The streets, buildings, and lights turned into a blur around him until all he could see was the gleaming afternoon rays mixing with undefinable dark gray.

The halfa only needed to fly a few minutes before he found his destination. Vlad slowed to a stop and smirked when he saw the complex. Well, the girl had good enough tastes for the limited budget she had. Of course, if Jasmine had let him pay for her apartment instead of being so infuriatingly ‘independent’ as she wanted to be, the girl could have a much better place to live in a much safer part of town.

Although on second thought, he would concede that ‘Gotham’ and ‘safe’ should not be used in the same sentence unless ‘is not’ or ‘will never be’ were in between the two words. Still, there were relatively safer neighborhoods with less criminal activity that he would have happily funded for her had her stubborn Fenton nature not kicked in.

Maybe Vlad could ‘convince’ her to let him pay for a new apartment this afternoon. A way to repay him for the trouble she caused, so to speak. The idea appealed to him greatly.

With a small smirk, he floated intangibly through the building until he found the twelfth floor and in effect, Jasmine’s room. He paused momentarily, mentally going over his plans as he stared at the brass numbers on the apartment door. He would go in, play a few mind games with the girl to convince her that leaving Daniel in a _mental hospital_ was not a good idea, and if all went well, maybe he could get her to leave this city to get a job someplace less villain infested.

Simple and effective.

With his plans decided, he walked through the door and into the shrink’s apartment.

As Vlad walked in, he took a moment to memorize her quarters. Her entry way, or what little of it there was, had plain white tiles, smudged slightly off-white from use. A coat rack holding various items including what seemed to be rarely used doctor’s coat and two pairs of frequently used shoes also adorned the space. To the left of him the beige carpet started and led to a small dark brown L-shaped couch that faced a TV. At the couch end closest to him, an end table with a coaster and a lamp sat waiting for a relaxing night of reading. Across of him, the tile continued towards the kitchen which held a nice blue and white theme throughout the stainless steel themed room.

Vlad might not have had much influence in location or monthly payments, but it didn’t mean he hadn’t demanded that she let him pay for the furniture and other, more permanent, things in her life (even if he did only pay for the things that she handpicked from a catalogue). It was one of those _compromises_ that he disliked to have to make, but at the time, it had kept the peace.

In between the living room and kitchen, a small hallway led to what he presumed to be the bathroom, bedroom, and…closet? There were three shadowed doors at the very least. Next to the hallway was his opponent. Peeking between the columns that separated the kitchen from the rest of the house, was a flash of orange red hair sitting in a dining room chair.

He floated closer to get a better look at what he was dealing with this afternoon. To his surprise, the girl was not in regular or at the very least semi-casual attire, but pajamas of all things. They weren’t lacy and pink, thank goodness for the small things in life, but a simple pair of black sweat pants and a teal t-shirt that perfectly matched the color of her eyes.

Her fiery red hair hung was down for a change. It flowed loosely around her face, the face that looked painfully like his beloved Maddie’s, and stopped right below his shoulders. Vlad watched as she yawned, covering it slightly with her left hand, before taking a sip of something that he assumed to be coffee from her mug.

With a small twang in his heart, he noticed the mug had Daniel’s (in)famous logo on the side of it.

To distract himself, he took note of the other object on the small, square shaped table. One empty plate sat at the end with an empty mug as well (logo not included). His seat, most likely. In the center was a larger plate with various types of cookies of a rainbow colored variety, poured out from a package. Each pastry looked soft, as if merely touching them would make them crumble, each one being only about twice the diameter of a soda cap and as thick as his thumb. At the end of table was Jasmine with her own plate, which contained the crumbled remains of sweets and of course, the infamous mug.

My, my, she was prepared for this encounter.

“You’re late.”

He blinked in slight surprise at her sudden statement. Not one to give the advantage to his opponents, he pulled himself away from his previous thoughts and smirked, regaining visibility in front of her couch. “My, my Jasmine. How perspective. Tell me, how did you know I was here?”

She rolled her eyes, much to his annoyance. “Give me some credit, Vlad. I used to hunt ghosts. When you’re alone in a room, and it suddenly gets colder for no explainable reason, either the heater is broken or there’s a ghost in the room. Considering I was expecting you, it doesn’t take much to put two and two together.”

He nodded at her explanation and turned back into his human form. “Logical as always.”

Vlad watched her for a moment, gauging her reaction. He expected her to be staring at him or at the very least glaring, but no. She wasn’t. The girl was drinking her coffee in a calm manner, not even giving him even a glance as she enjoyed her sweets. It was like he had unexpectedly interrupting her afternoon snack instead of been invited for a discussion.

The girl was playing mind games with him, and he didn’t like it… that was a lie, he enjoyed the challenge as much as the game, but only when he was the one in control. Besides, seemingly ignoring your opponents while idly drinking something but in reality waiting for them to make the first move was an obvious, and quite frankly, amateurish move.

“So are you going to sit or are you going to keep watching me like a creeper?” Vlad snapped himself out of his thoughts only to be met with an arched eyebrow and a raised mug. “I made tea.”

Not coffee then. He strode to the chair across from her, but didn’t take a seat. Not yet anyway. Instead, he stood behind the chair with an air of confidence and superiority. Some part of him noted that their seating situation was not unlike his one with Daniel at Arkham.

He suddenly pushed the thought away. Vlad needed focus on the here and now. He eyed the infamous mug. “I didn’t take you for the tea type.”

She shrugged and took a cookie from her plate, placing her drink back down at the same time. “I don’t like the taste of coffee.”

“How did you survive college?”

“Tea has caffeine.”

“Hmmm. A shame. Coffee would have really gone well with these cookies.” He finally took a chair and picked up one of the treats from the center of the table, examining a yellow cookie with interest. He gestured it towards her. “Is this lemon?”

“Look, we’re not here to discuss my preference of tea over coffee, so let’s cut to the chase. How did you find out about Danny?” He spared a glance at the girl, who seemed to have put on her ‘business’ face. The interrogation may have just begun, but Jasmine was a little behind on the game. He already started his plays the moment he revealed himself. Yes, she may have had _tea_ and _cookies_ , but that was amateurish in comparison to what his _words_ could do. If Jazz wanted to play with the professionals, she would have to step up her game.

He arched an eyebrow at her serious expression. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I seem to remember a certain Number 25, but Daniel?” He stopped examining the cookie and gave her a pointed look. “Well, according to you, he’s dead.”

She frowned. “Vlad, I’m being serious.”

“So am I! We’re here to discuss 25 are we not?” He frowned with mock shock, placing the cookie on his plate as he did so. “Unless, of course, you have something to confess to me.”

“What are you talking about?”

He couldn’t stop the smirk appearing on his face. “And here I thought you were of above average intelligence. My mistake.”

“Stop playing games Vlad.” Shame, he hoped that she would be nearly growling and shouting at him at this point. Unfortunately, only the ever increasing frown on her face as the sharp glare at his last remark showed her discomfort. Maybe he should take it up a notch.

Vlad casually picked up the lone yellow cookie that he examined just moments ago and gestured to Jasmine with it in his hand. “You talk as if you haven’t been playing them yourself. You know, I always said Daniel was more like me than he realized, but truly, _you_ are the most like me in the best of ways.” He took a bite out of the pastry, noting that it _was_ in fact lemon, before smirking darkly. “Or worst, depending on your opinion.”

She pursed her lips. “You’re rambling.”

“Am I?”

“Yes.”

He shrugged, placing the cookie back on his plate. “You call it rambling. I call it discussing. By the way, may I have some of that tea that you’re drinking? I’m a bit parched.” She eyed him for a moment, before tentatively going to the kitchen. After some shuffling of what he assumed to be items in the fridge and the grumbling machinery of the ice maker, she came back with a cup of ice and a pitcher of tea.

_Iced_ tea? Not exactly what he thought it would be, but better than nothing, he supposed.

“Look, I invited you here to keep the peace, not to argue over pointless things.” She said, placing the items near him. She crossed her arms and gave him a look that an adult would use towards a misbehaving toddler. “Will you please cooperate?”

He shrugged, taking the cup of ice in hand. “I guess you should have thought of that when you were busy hiding Daniel from me.”

The young woman frowned, but stood straighter than before, more defensively if Vlad read her body language right. “He was the one hiding. I just didn’t tell anyone.”

“Oh really?” He drawled, not even giving her a spare glance. He lazily poured half the ice into his mug. “And you expect me to believe that, when all evidence points to you striving to keep his existence away from me?”

“I didn’t-”

He cut her off by slamming the glass hard enough to ring throughout the room, but not enough force to break it. Jasmine looked shocked for a moment, and Vlad took this crack in her innocent façade to attack, his voice was sickly sweet with accusation laced beneath his words. “You didn’t do what? Tell me he was alive? Tell me that he was in the very same _prison_ you were working in? Because you didn’t tell me anything, and because of that, I had to find my own way to him.”

She straightened up again, eyes cold. They glared intensely at one another, not unlike their contest of wills within Arkham. When she finally did answer him, her voice was like frostbite lingering on a fool’s unknowing body in the dead of winter, slow, deadly, and chilling to the bone... chilling for one who hadn’t heard masters of that tone beforehand. “I’m here to answer your questions, not to be insulted. Either be civil or get out of my apartment.”

If she was trying to be intimidating, she only succeeded partly. While Vlad would give the girl credit for her potential ability to scare the sheeple of the world, towards him, her words had little to no effect. Only the knowledge that she was capable of such coldness was even noteworthy.

He met her glare with a dark smirk. “I thought you said not to do anything you might regret? Do as I say and not as I do, I suppose.” He shrugged again and put on an unimpressed expression, taking the pitcher and pouring the tea into his mug as if he hadn’t just nearly been kicked out of the apartment by the infuriated red-head. Vlad waited for to say something, anything really, but as he looked up at the young woman, he found that she taken her seat once more. Her eyes were still cold and calculating, a strange expression on such a youthful face.

Vlad thought that Jasmine was at the right level of annoyance to still act rational, but she would also make enough mistakes in her attempts to ‘thwart’ Vlad in his ‘evil schemes’ that he would be able to manipulate the situation to his advantage.

Not that he wasn’t already at the advantage in the first place.

He took a sip of the iced tea, sighing softly at the surprisingly refreshing taste, before speaking again. “Well, since this conversation seems to be going nowhere, how about a little game to end this stalemate?”

Her eyes narrowed further, looking suspicious of his actions yet curious at the same time. “What kind of game?”

“Well, it’s less of a game and more of a back and worth answer session so to speak.”

She took a reddish cookie from the center plate and placed it on her own. “Go on.”

“It seems like someone is impatient.” Jasmine did her best interpretation of the ‘scary eyes’ towards Vlad. They had no effect on him, of course, but it was a nice attempt on her part. He sighed dramatically as if resigned. “Very well, Jasmine. You see, it’s quite simple. I question you about some topic let’s to say the reason why you didn’t tell me why you felt it to necessary to not tell me of Daniel’s existence at Arkham for the last year or something of the sort, and you answer back truthfully.

“Then we switch roles and go back and forth between the two of us until the first one to not answer a question is forced to answer all the other person’s questions. The winner does not have to respond the other person’s questioning any longer.” He smirked, and causally leaned back in his chair. “Does that sound good to you?”

Vlad watched in satisfaction at the various emotions crossing the red head’s face. At first, shock grazed her features before quickly turning into accusing rage. However, that fire quickly flickered out, her face becoming carefully blank. Jasmine took her hands away from the mug, leaned back in her chair, and intertwined them, her knuckles white with the force she held them together.

She paused again, reading him, before speaking slowly, as if controlling the speed would control the boiling volcano that Vlad could clearly see bubbling just below the surface. “You’re treating Danny’s health like it’s a game?” When she spoke, her voice was emotionless, but the underlining undeniable feeling of disgust interlaced her words.

Vlad arched an eyebrow. “And you haven’t?” Jasmine’s eyes twitched slightly, but there was no other indication of her rage that Vlad knew was under the surface of those cool, teal pools.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, but I don’t think you are being the reasonable one here.”

He rolled his eyes. “I’m sure you don’t. After all, you are such the perfect saint and I’m just the manipulative, old Fruitloop.”

She frowned. “I’m no saint, Vlad, but you being a fruit loop?” She shrugged, looking like she was trying to do so nonchalantly, but the small, purposeful upward quirk of her lips betrayed her true feeling. “You’re the one who said it, not me.”

It was his turn for his eyes to narrow. “Quite.” He quickly took the expression off, and smiled, taking an off-white cookie from the tray. “Well, if you believe that you can do wrong, why don’t you play? After all, we both want information.”

“How can I know that you’re telling the truth?” He nearly snorted at the naïve question, but kept his expression even as to not infuriate the young woman more.

Well, _Jasmine_ wouldn’t be able to tell, at least not entirely. Her years of psych training might have taught her some tricks to being a human lie detector, but Vlad had spent many more years with practical experience against masterful manipulators. He knew of the _signs_ that people looked for to tell when someone was lying. In response, the billionaire spent countless hours practicing his lying skills against less dangerous opponents to eliminate these little quirks, these _tells._ Of course, he might have missed one, but that wasn’t the point. If he wanted to, Vlad could easily run circles around the junior psychologist with lies upon lies of word games and double meaning that would leave her in complete unawares.

But that wasn’t the point of this meeting. He wanted to her to know that _she_ wronged _him._ The billionaire could take no satisfaction if he told lies because even half-truths would seem like a hollow victory. No, for once, he would tell the whole truth, if only to know that it was not his own actions that caused her to come to be in this predicament, but the bull-headedness of a stubborn, childish mentality that could not for the life of her see the lengths he had gone through to change his own character.

Yes, Jasmine would get the truth and feel shame from his words, a needed blow to her ego like he had needed years ago. Of course, _she_ wouldn’t know his game, which in the end would make the victory even sweeter when the girl knew the truth.

As for Vlad, ever since his accident, he had a built-in lie detector. While advanced hearing had its annoyances, including adding another reason why he hated blasted cities, being able to hear the heartbeats of individuals if he concentrated hard enough made it easy to tell when someone was trying to pull the wool over his eyes.

So no, neither party had to worry about liars in this session, which, in a way, made this game so much more entertaining.

Vlad took a sip of tea, a small hint of a smirk on his lips. “Don’t trust me, Jasmine?”

“I did, partially, before today. Now, I can’t be sure.”

He raised an eyebrow at that. “And if I asked you to play this game before today?”

“Then I would have wondered why you suddenly wanted to know everything about my life and be worried that you found out about Danny.” She answered immediately. Vlad had to wonder the state of the girl’s mind at the moment that she believed in her controversial responses. Partial trust? More along the lines of no trust whatsoever.

At least she was being truthful, though insanity had people believing their own delusions. In either case, it was a good reason to get her out of Arkham. That place was bad for her mind.

Vlad sighed despairingly, picking up the off-white cookie between his index finger and thumb and dangling it over his plate. “And based on that response alone, I know you don’t trust me.”

He heard her scoff. “Do you blame me?”

“Considering I paid for the remainder of your college days including tuition, boarding, and all other fees, paid for your furniture for your home, and well as recommending you at Arkham in the first place?” He gave her a pointed look that was met with only a blank face. He sighed and shook his head, placing the cookie back on his plate. “No then? And here, I thought we had come to an understanding.”

“An understanding? Yes. Complete and utter trust? While I know you’re not scheming to take over the world by going through time with the Infi-Map anymore,” He nearly scowled at that remark. “I know you’re not exactly Mister trustworthy. Didn’t Dalv just make a deal with Lexicorp recently? Something about possible future business deals for a better brighter future? They aren’t exactly the most trustworthy of individuals.” At his lack of response, she simply shook her head, sitting up straighter in her chair. “No, Vlad, I didn’t fully trust you, and any trust you had was shattered the moment you went behind my back to meet with Danny instead of contacting me. It was dangerous, irresponsible, and wrong of you.”

…What did she just say?

Vlad suddenly stood up, a fire sustaining rage filling his entire being and turning him into a mad beast. Did she really… really just accuse _him_? Accuse, _him,_ ofacting like the irresponsible one?!

Every bit of his composure he had mustered, every bit of self-restraint, broke at the comment. With it, the dam that held back his anger, betrayal, pain, and utter despair over the last few days came barreling through him and focused on the _girl_ in front of him. He needed to shout, to let her know the pain of the past few days, so she could feel every bit as miserable and distressed as he was feeling.

“Went behind _your_ back?” He knew his eyes flashed bright red when Jasmine flinched. But he couldn’t even feel satisfied. “How dare you say that I went behind your back when you never even once contacted me? I could have given any medical attention that Daniel needed! I could have helped him recover from what the blasted government did to him! But no, you are too wrapped up in the idea that I’m some villain that you didn’t see how I could have been at the very least a valuable asset!

“But that’s makes it easier, doesn’t it?” Vlad hissed, accusingly. “You can keep Daniel all safe away from the evil Fruitloop in some cell. Sure, he won’t be a hero, but he would be safe, which is all that matters, isn’t it, _Dr. Fenton?_ ”

Jasmine held his (must be very) estranged glare with a blank face, her eyes not even betraying the emotion underneath. Vlad felt his rage stroked even more. He wanted to be guilty and feel shame for her actions. He knew it with every fiber of his being that _Jasmine Fenton_ was not right. _Vlad Masters_ did nothing wrong. Yet judging by the look on her face, the girl took his opinion with a grain of salt.

And then she frowned and looked away, her face only showing discomfort rather than remorse.

And why would she take his opinion? In her eyes, he was the deranged Fruitloop, the enemy, the evil psychotic billionaire who had once tried to control the hero’s life. Despite her belief in the good in individuals, Vlad knew that Jasmine would ever accept that he had truly changed. To be completely honest with himself, he only wanted to see Daniel safe and happy, to give him a life when he surely should have died. Both for the accident and his… _disappearance._

But that would never happen. Vlad had played his games before and now they coming back to haunt him, in a half literal sense. Retrospect was a cruel thing. The ‘if only’s coming back in his mind teasing images of being the family friend that Jack always wanted him to be, of finding and training Daniel without the animosity between them, of everyone being whole and unbroken.

But that was the past, a time long since passed, and now Vlad could only look at his options that he had before him and play the hand he’d been dealt with, despite knowing he had lost nearly every other game he’d try to play before. Because now, Daniel needed him, and no one, not even a deluded, overprotective sister was going to stop him from getting the young halfa a happy ending… or at least a better one.

After all, Vlad, who admittedly was not someone one would describe as ‘good’, found his own sort-of-happy ending then why couldn’t Daniel?

He slumped back into his seat, the angry fiery rage suddenly draining out of him and replaced with a cool conviction. He would give Daniel his happy ending, he just had to bide his time, get information, and wait. Chess was his forte after all, so why shouldn’t he use his skills in strategy in goodness for once in his life?

The two nibbled on cookies and drank tea in a tense silence. Every once in a while, Vlad would dart his eyes toward Jasmine, only to find her in a contemplative position. Although the girl ate, it was mechanical and distracted. Eat a cookie, drink tea, rest and stare at the mug, repeat, all the while, her eyes far off yet calculating, a smig of sadness creeping in their depths.

Jasmine was up to something, he could tell, but at the moment, he let her be, after all it was her move. He had said his piece, more than enough thinking back on his rant, and her reaction would make all the difference in the conversation.

Over time, the center plate slowly lost most of its cookies, only a few fully in tact pastries remained. The ice in Vlad’s tea mostly melted with only a few stray ice cubes floating in the watered down liquid. By his calculations, the time was a little over half past four, maybe even close to five. Not that he had anywhere to be; he too had taken the day off.

“I thought about telling you. It was two days after I found out where he was, I think.”

So, she finally chosen to speak, quietly but still, it was a start. He looked up at her with narrowed eyes.

“But you didn’t.”

“No, I didn’t.” She conceded. “But I had my reasons why. Let me explain them. No games. No manipulations. No interruptions. Just the cold hard truth.”

He eyed her warily. Some part of him wanted to accept her offer of a truce. It was the part of him that insisted earlier that day to talk to Jasmine about Daniel before bombarding into Arkham. However, he ignored it. This was his time, and he wouldn’t give the girl the satisfaction of controlling all the cards.

He shook his head, a dark smirk coming across his face. “While that does sound tempting, you miss the point of this exercise. I _like_ to play games. It makes this much more fun.”

Her face became stony and unreadable, much to his annoyance. She pursed her lips, leaning back in her chair with that expression. “Fine then.” She said curtly, much to his surprise. “But the maximum is five questions. If you win, do whatever you think is best for Danny. If I win, he stays at Arkham. If there is a tie, we’ll find a compromise. That sound fair?”

Well, things just got interesting. He chuckled, eyeing her with a smirk. “ _Now_ who’s playing with his health?”

“Is that your first question?”

Vlad chuckled again, picking up a blue cookie in amusement. “No, dear Jasmine. That’s what one would call a rhetorical question. I would think that someone of your caliber would have heard of them.”

“And being facetious helps how?”

Vlad smirked. “Is that _your_ first question?”

Her eyes narrowed. “No, the game hasn’t started yet.”

“Oh, we both know that that’s not true. The game started the moment I entered the room. But where are my manners? Ladies first.” He finished. Vlad felt excited by this. Not only would he get his answers, but he would also have a way to show her all her grievances with only the truth. Overall, it was a win-win situation.

Her lips pursed tighter at his ‘gentleman-like’ attitude. “Fine. First question. How did you find out where Danny was?”

So getting the heart of the matter first? That was fine by him. “I found out about him in a roundabout way.” He explained. “You see, I was looking into Arkham files a little over a month ago to see what villains you were working with, for your well-being, of course.”

“Ahuh.”

“Oh, yee of little faith. Well, I noticed one of your patients were unnamed. Naturally, I checked for a description and picture so I could identify said patient. Do you know what I found?” He paused for dramatic effect, seeing her bristle slightly in annoyance. “Nothing. Nothing whatsoever. There was only a number within the system. So I did my own research, emphasize on search.”

“You went into Arkham as Plasmius didn’t you?” She concluded.

“Now why would I do that? That’s what you call a rhetorical question, Jasmine, so it doesn’t count.” Her eyes narrowed at that, but he ignored her. “No, I sent one of my employees to get a picture of the said inmate and any other etcetera information. And you can say that the rest was history.” He finished with a smile. “Now, my turn. Why didn’t you tell me about him?”

“Multiple reasons actually.” Oh really? “The first, Danny made me promise not to tell anyone. No ghostly allies, human allies, and he mentioned you by name. The second reason, it wouldn’t be best for him in his psychological state to interact with you. Third, I didn’t know how you would react to him being alive, for both your benefit and his own.” Both of their benefits? What sort of contrived backwards thinking led her to that conclusion?

“Now, my turn. How’s Danielle?”

That stopped him short. “What?”

“It’s a simple question. How is she? I haven’t seen her in a while.”

“She’s doing well.” He said slowly, the image of a tiny little, blue eyed ravenette reaching out to him to pick her up. A small smile tried to appear on his lips, but he suppressed it. He couldn’t let himself be soft… at least not at the moment. Something else occurred to him. “Although, my Little Rabbit has been throwing the worst of tantrums lately.” He grimaced at the memory of Danielle screaming when she didn’t get dessert after dinner one time. Vlad swore that she was developing Daniel’s ghostly wail early with those lungs of hers.

“She’s almost three now right?”

He nodded. “Physically, yes.”

She smiled wistfully, leaning back in her chair while holding the DP cup. “I remember when Danny was that young. I was about ten at the time and couldn’t really understand why anyone would want something that loud and destructive in their house. He nearly destroyed Bearbert so many times.” Her smile turned sad at the memory, though Vlad could defiantly hear the longing in her tone for better times.

“Yes, I could imagine him as a troublesome toddler.” He said simply, not really sure how to respond to the change in conversation. Score for Jasmine. He shook his head. “Now enough of that. Second question. Did know Daniel was at Arkham when you asked to apply there?”

She shrugged, slowly bringing herself back from memory lane. “I had no idea he was there. In fact, I didn’t see him until a little under a month after I was employed. Even then, it was for a session for an uncooperative patient, not Danny. Apparently, he wasn’t responding to questioning or any treatments other than the sedatives they gave him at night. I was a sort of last resort. The two of us were entirely surprised that the other was at Arkham.”

He could hardly believe that, but her heart beat didn’t seem irregular. It didn’t excuse her for not telling him, but at the very least, it was good that she wasn’t betraying him since the very beginning. Still, Jasmine shouldn’t have kept Daniel’s existence away from him.

When Vlad didn’t comment, she continued. “Why did you make a deal with Lexicorp?”

Vlad would deny it to himself later, but he was relieved when Jasmine didn’t question him any further about his home life. That was a bit too personal for this type of conversation.

He shrugged. “I didn’t agree to any specifics. The only reason I even agreed for this ‘better brighter future’ nonsense was so my company wouldn’t fall. While Dalv is one of the strongest corporations in the world, Lexicorp could still ruin it with one word. I have little to no intention in actually cooperating with them.”

“You do realize there will be issues in the future.” The billionaire rolled his eyes.

“You don’t need to tell me that. I’m considering putting away some money just in case the company is bought out.” Jazz nodded.

“Sounds smart.”

He smirked. “This is me we’re talking about.” Jasmine rolled her eyes, but didn’t respond much further. Vlad’s smirk didn’t falter, however. He merely took a sip of tea before continuing. “Alright, how does keeping Daniel in Arkham help him since you seem so determined to keep him there?” Vlad expected her to give a half-baked excuse about protecting him from the world that betrayed him or something of the sort. He did not expect, however, the odd expression on her face as she froze at his words. “What?”

Jasmine seemed to have to force herself to relax, if only a bit. She bit her lip before speaking slowly, every word said meticulously. It was almost as if she had to force the words out. “Vlad, Danny isn’t entirely… sane anymore.” If she noticed his incredulously shocked expression, she didn’t give a sign. She merely gripped the cup tighter. “Remember _your_ reaction when you found out what the Guys in White did. You killed nearly everyone in that building and then spent six months trying to salvage enough DNA from our house to create a clone of Danny. You nearly went insane in the process. Don’t you try to deny it either. The few times we interacted during that time, you were defiantly a literal fruit loop.”

He flinched. Those were… dark times to say the least, worse than those years of loneliness as he plotted against Jack. At least then he felt like he had some form of control over his life. He nodded slowly. “I suppose I was, but I couldn’t imagine that Daniel would take such drastic measures.”

She sighed despairingly into her tea, shaking her head slightly. “While Danny wouldn’t kill anyone, he still would have a drastic reaction considering the… circumstances.” The shrink let out a shaky breath and took a sip of tea, probably trying to control her emotions from the unwanted memories. After a moment, she continued like nothing had happened. “Anyway, combine Danny’s obsessive ghostly nature and the torture and hardship that his human psyche must have had after nearly a year of experimentation... well, something has to give.” She sighed again. “To be completely honest, I’m surprised he’s doing _this_ well.”

Something didn’t sit well with Vlad, and he decided to voice his concerns. “He seemed perfectly fine when talking to me, a bit nervous, but nothing out of the ordinary.”

Jasmine laughed humorlessly. “That’s because he thought he was talking to a dream version of you. He told me ever since he became a halfa, his dreams have become more realistic.” Only his years of dealing with politics kept him from cringing. He, himself, had spent many a nights waking up from nightmares about various horrid moments of this life, included but not limited to his childhood, those first years as a halfa, and his imagination mocking him by creating Maddie’s and Daniel’s final moments. The realism in those dreams were never a gift. Even the happy dreams merely mocked him by showing him of what could have been instead of facing reality.

Once in a blue moon, he had a happy dream that didn’t leave him feeling melancholy afterwards. Not surprisingly, those dreams most often included his Little Rabbit, Danielle, having a wonderful, happy future.

With Daniel and his experiences, his dreams were sure to be dreadful. Well, nightmares, as the case seemed to be. He only hoped that the people in Arkham had the sense to give him something that would leave him dreamless.

She continued sounding frustrated with the situation, but unaware of his reaction. “It doesn’t help that the sedatives they give him causes him to have lucid dreams sometimes, which you would think would help, right? Wrong. Whenever he tried to change the dreams themselves, the nightmares became worse. The only reason he’s still on them is so the entire floor wouldn’t be kept up all night from his screaming.” She added at his disbelieving look.

Internally, he went over the information in his head and saw no discrepancies. Though, why would a hospital keep an inmate on a drug that would hurt his condition, he had no clue. That would be the first thing to go the moment he had custody over Daniel. He continued with a small frown. “So Daniel thought I was just a nightmare, and he was simply reacting to it the way he thought he should.”

She nodded. “Exactly. But that’s not the only issue.” Is it ever? “He has little to no trust for… anyone really. The only person he talks to about anything is me. While Arkham might not be the best environment, it’s the one he feels most comfortable in right now. He doesn’t have to worry about his powers acting up as much nor does he have to worry about mywell-being since he’s in close proximity to me every day.

“As much as I want him to be out of there, he’s actually really sick, and to be completely honest, I don’t know what anyone could do to help him.” She sighed once more and took a tip of tea. The girl started tracing the rim of the cup, a frown on her face. “Anyway, next question. If you win this game, what do you plan to do with him?

“Take him back to my mansion, of course.” He watched with slight annoyance as Jasmine’s hand clenched around her mug before returning back to its semi-lax position. However, she stopped tracing the rim and held the cup’s other side. Vlad raised an eyebrow. “You seem to disagree. Does that have something to do with his sanity issue?” He took create satisfaction in her slight eye twitch. “I guess it is. If that’s the case, I can hire you as well as the world’s best psychiatrists to look after him. Not only that, if you feel that his powers are an issue, I can buy even better repressors to keep his abilities in check or invent them if necessary.

“See? Problem solved. No cell included.”

“First of all they’re inhibitors not repressors. Second, no, it isn’t, Vlad. Yes, while the _sanity issue_ that you call it is what I’m referring to, taking him to your mansion would just make everything worse. The heart of Danny’s problems is paranoia, and you and that mansion are part of that.”

“Oh yes, he _must_ believe that I spent all this time and all of my resources just to find him and make him my evil apprentice. Daniel-”

“Does believe that. Whole heartily.” His anger must have shown because the girl let out a frustrated huff. “Think about it. The last time the two of you interacted, you were at each other’s throats. At the same time, you were trying to make his life as hard as possible so you could repress his will and make him your evil apprentice. He hasn’t seen you since then, so for you to suddenly waltz in and want to take him away, he’s going to assume the worse.” The shrink laid back in her seat casually after she finished her rant, taking the last cookie from the center plate as she did so. “Oh, by the way, that was another question.”

He blinked but his surprise was quickly quenched in favor of sending a small smirk. “Nice try Jasmine, but I didn’t say it counted.”

She shook her head. “Doesn’t matter. You asked a question and I answered, therefore it counts.” She said, taking a bite of her cookie before setting it down and taking a sip of tea.

As much as he hated to admit it, the girl had a point. There were little to no set rules to this game other than the back and forth question rule. To be completely honest, he was more peeved that he didn’t think of the idea first. She had asked questions within her answers after all.

Oh, well. He had gained information either way.

Pretending to contemplate her reasoning, he sighed and leaned back in the kitchen chair, looking towards the ceiling as if it would yield an answer to a problem of sorts. “Very well.” He drawled, his tone one of a person taking on a great burden. “Go on then. Ask me another question.”

“How kind of you.” She deadpanned.

“Wasn’t it?”

Jasmine rolled her eyes, but then eyed him sternly. “Now I want you to perfectly honest here.”

“Your lack of faith pains me.”

“And be serious.”

He smirked mischievously. “Of course. Aren’t I always?”

“Right.” She drawled sarcastically. “Anyway, last question. I’m going to give you a scenario and you’re going to respond as truthfully as possible.

He rolled his eyes, though he was curious. “How creative.”

A long frustrated sigh escaped her lips. “ _Anyway_ , here it goes. Both Danny and Danielle are being held captive by ghosts. You were recently hit by the Plasmius Maximus or something of the sort, so your powers are repressed. You have no resources, no ways to call back up, nor any way to escape. Essentially, you’re trapped.” Vlad frowned, not liking where this was going. “The villain that captured you three comes in and tells you that he would let you go since he got what he wanted from you. However, you could only choose between one of the other two halfas to go with you. So the question is if it was between Danny’s or Danielle’s safety, which one would you choose?”

“Jasmine!” How could she-?

“Choose Vlad, or do you surrender?”

“That question-”

“Is perfectly acceptable to ask. Now answer.”

He scowled. “You know very well that it isn’t.”

She shrugged. “There were no set requirements on what type of questions could be asked, therefore this is a perfectly legal question.” The shrink gave him a pointed look, one that showed no remorse of the situation, nor satisfaction. Just pure calculation. “Now choose.”

“I can’t.”

“Then do you surrender?”

“My answer is that I couldn’t choose between the two.” He said, trying to find a way out of the predicament. Unfortunately for him, the formidable girl had a response to that.

“Then you refuse to answer.” She replied. “That means, I win.”

“No, it means that the villain would take me instead of those two.” He hated how desperate his voice sounded because to him, this _game_ wasn’t just a matter of principal, but also a matter of Daniel and his future.

But in reality, he knew this was an uphill battle, and he had a feeling he was losing ground fast.

Case and point, the girl shook her head and answered back casually. “No, that means everyone is killed.”

“I wouldn’t allow it!”

Jasmine shook her head, much to his ever growing despair. “You have no control. You’re just a prisoner. If you can’t pick between the two of them, neither of their safeties are secured, so you don’t answer the question. Remember, you have to answer truthfully.” She said stoically, her eyes unrelenting.

Vlad tried to think of any other scenario that would work, but he realized that no matter what he did, that, unless he lied, there would be no way for him to truly win this game. He had to commend Jasmine on her brilliance in manipulation. Yes, he could lie, but again that wasn’t the point of this game.

Still, that little rat outmaneuvered him...

He slumped in his chair, suddenly feeling old, an eternal tired from the world’s antics on his soul. “I can’t answer the question then.” Vlad said quietly.

“So I win.” No satisfaction was in her tone.

He watched her. There was no triumph in her eyes either. “I suppose so.” He responded. Vlad could practically feel the cards falling from his hands at the loss. What could he do now? He huffed slightly, looking at the pastries on the table with slight distain. “That was a dirty trick.”

“Maybe so,” She conceded. “But you forget, Vlad. I work with super villains on a daily basis. I know how their minds work. I know all the tactics to get information out of their heads. I’m not proud of it, but playing mind games is my specialty.”

He huffed again, but the man couldn’t find the anger within him to be annoyed. “So I _am_ a villain now?”

“If you keep acting like a villain, I’ll keep treating you like one.” She replied.

Now, Vlad was annoyed. He frowned slightly. “How am I being a villain, Jasmine? For wanting Daniel’s safety? For finding the truth? Tell me.” His voice sounded too pleading for his tastes, but at the moment, he couldn’t care about how he sounded.

Jasmine looked at him for a long moment before glancing at her infuriating mug for some reason. “The rules of the game say that I don’t have to answer any more questions.” Her voice sounded almost robotic.

That’s right, that was part of the original rules wasn’t it? He sighed again, thinking that he might as well start thinking of another plan to try to get Daniel without tipping off Jasmine. “No, you don’t. Do you?”

“Nope, but I will anyway, since you asked so nicely.”

He scoffed. “I don’t need your consolation prize.”

“That’s just it, Vlad, this isn’t a consolation prize. There was never a prize to begin with as far as I was concerned.”

He arched an eyebrow.“Oh really?”

“Yes, really.” Jasmine said, sounding exasperated. She frowned a bit, and said softly to him. “Vlad, I know you’re frustrated. I know you’re feeling betrayed and confused. Heck, I would be too if I were in your shoes.”

“Then why was my reaction so _immature_ to you?” Vlad interjected.

“ _Because_ you should have gone to me first.” She countered, sounding slightly annoyed. “People don’t do things without reason, Vlad, and in my opinion I have perfectly valid ones.”

Unfortunately, that made sense, though it didn’t mean he had to be happy about it. “I could have helped.”

She shrugged. “Maybe, but Danny doesn’t see it like that, and now all the progress that I made with him is probably gone.”

“With just one visit?” He asked incredulously.

“Yes and no. It was the way you visited. If you had been with me at the time and knew of his condition, then maybe it would have ended up better. But with you surprising him and making his many nightmares a reality?” She shook her head. “There was little to no chance of that ending well. In fact, you probably did the worst possible thing you could have possibly done other than kidnapping him directly.”

“Why does this make me a villain?”

“Because you’re making this entire scenario into a game, not taking anyone else seriously and only really thinking about your own needs. I know you care about Danny, but the way you’re caring is like how you obsessed over our mom, not thinking about what she wanted or needed and only thinking about yourself.” He flinched, some part of him wanting to disagree strongly. However, he hushed that part of him, since looking back, it was a little bit more than true. “You want Danny safe and in your care. I get that. But without taking both sides of the story, you end up hurting him more than helping.”

He considered her argument. On one hand, he hated to be accused as a villain for wanting Daniel’s safety, but on the other hand, his could… maybe in some sort of way see how his actions could have possibly been a bit villain and obsessive-like.

He sighed, conceding that yes, it may have been a bit more than a little obsessive. “I suppose you have a point.” He eyed her sternly though. “But where do we go from here. I can’t just pretend I don’t know he’s there.”

She puffed herself up, looking to be in ‘business mode’ again, the conversation coming full circle. “Well, you have a couple options. One, we wait and see if he improves in ti-… or not.” She added, seeing at his glare. The girl sighed, and gave Vlad an unsure look. Then as if deciding something, she sighed again and gave him a soft smile. “Or two,” She continued, her words slow and tentative? “Two, you let me see his condition for a while, and in time, we start having short visits to catch up on recent events, to start over in a way.”

He straightened, that was not expected. “What do you have to gain by me having access to Daniel?”

She shook her head. “I don’t. In fact, you coming into his life will most likely be detrimental to his health rather than improve any sort of stability he may have.” He narrowed his eyes, but was confused just the same. She smiled ironically. “But I’m giving you a second chance.”

He snorted. “Must you make me ask why?”

“Because Danielle.”

Vlad straightened again. “What does she have to do with anything?”

She rolled her eyes, taking one of the last cookies on the center plate. “Ever since you started caring for her, you’ve become a better person… in general. From what I’ve seen, she’s a happy little girl, if a bit spoiled, that loves her father. And more importantly, you care for her just as much as Danny, if not even more so.”

He frowned, and leaned back in his seat. “Yes, I love my Little Rabbit, but what does that have to do with Daniel?”

“I know you’re not really that bad of a guy, a fruit loop for sure, but after working with real villains for almost a year… well,” She grimaced, looking at the cookie with a sneer, before giving him a pointed look. “There’s a difference between you being annoyingly manipulative and trying to rule the world by encasing it with ice.”

He didn’t know if being not as bad as an insane super villains whom didn’t care about the values of lives was a compliment or not.

He ignored the thought, and pointed out an important note. “Yet you say I’m acting like a villain.”

“Yes, you were. But that’s a bit my fault.” She answered with a shrug.

“Go on.” He drawled, leaning forward with a smirk. “How is this your fault as well?” Yes, he wanted to know he was right. Vlad would never claim he wasn’t a bit petty. Entirely petty? No, but he would take satisfaction in Jasmine’s explanation of her wrong-doings, even in small amounts.

She rolled her eyes, seeming to understand his motivation, but indulging him on his sense of self-righteousness… or self-centeredness depending on who you asked. She took a bite of the cookie before explaining. “Because I didn’t trust you about Danny, you automatically assumed that I was not to be trusted either. In such, you started to revert to your old tactics, by going behind everyone’s backs to have total domination and complete power over your opponents. If I had trusted you with the information earlier then this could have been avoided. But I didn’t, and that is my fault.”

“And now?”

“Now?” She paused, placing the cookie down, as if the emphasize the importance of the moment. The young woman looked at him straight on, straightening herself in the seat with an even expression on her face. “Well, if you promise to cooperate, then down the road, maybe just maybe Danny can actually recover from all this.” The even expression melted, and she smiled softly, something undefinable glittering in her teal eyes. “Then if all goes well, he might… _might_ actually be able to see his little cousin grow up.”

That stopped him short. His Little Badger and Little Rabbit meeting? Daniel being an older brother to Danielle? A _family_? He couldn’t stop himself from picturing in his head, the images flooding into him with almost a desperate force.

Back in his mansion in Wisconsin. After a long day of classes at the local college, Daniel would come home and his Little Rabbit would stumble into a run towards her cousin. They would laugh and Daniel would suddenly pick her up over his shoulder, a childish squeak erupting from Danielle as she banged her little fists on his back. He would whirl her around a few times until she was screaming with glee before putting her down with a smile.

Another scene. Downstairs in the training room. Both he and Daniel helping Danielle with her developing ghost powers. Daniel would hold his little girl’s hands as he unsteadily starting flying. As she flew, Vlad would come up behind her and guide her to new heights until she became more comfortable in the air, the three of them laughing as she did flips through the air. When training was done for the day, Daniel would use his ice powers to create a mini ice rink for them to skate on, and Vlad would use his own to make the perfect hot cacao. Jasmine would be teaching Danielle how to skate, and they would end the evening huddling up together by the fireplace.

Yet another moment. They were in one of the sitting rooms, the one in library, if he recognized the space correctly. He was looking one of the most adorable scenes. Jasmine, Daniel, and Danielle all sitting on one of the lounging couches. The shrink sat in the center of the two half-heartily reading a book, but in reality was looking on the two younger halfas laying on her. Daniel was laying against her shoulder, a small amount of threatening to escape his mouth. He clung to Danielle and almost all the way across Jasmine’s torso. His Little Rabbit curled herself into a ball between the two of them, her head tucked into Daniel’s chest. She would be snoring softly, shuffling every once in a while to get closer and closer to the boy. Jasmine smiled softly, as Daniel held tighter to Danielle unconsciously in his sleep, a small smile tugging on the halfa’s lips. The shrink looked up from the little scene and towards Vlad.

In the vision, their eyes met, and suddenly, he was thrust back to reality.

All of this flickered through his mind in an instant. His whole being ached for this. It would be perfect. Absolutely and unbelievably wonderful and heart wrenchingly ironic considering the circumstances involved to getting this happy ending.

Some part of Vlad knew that Jasmine was pressing the right buttons on purpose, offering him his deepest desires by a few simple words that could easily be taken away with a few wrong steps on his part. If she wanted to, and if he agreed, the girl could manipulate his actions so thoroughly with her claim to this unbelievable dream that in the end, he would get nothing in return. It was risky, too risky for his usual tastes.

But that was the true point of this meeting wasn’t it? Trust, the lack of it, and a way to rebuild it. He flickered his gaze towards Jasmine for an instant. There was no look of triumph in her eyes, no secretive twinkle, just patience and maybe even a little bit of hope. Her entire body was tense in anticipation, as she held the DP mug tightly in her hands, the symbol itself barely visible between her intertwined fingers.

He looked back unseeingly to his plate, thinking about what her reaction could mean. Instantly, the familial image of Jasmine smiling towards the two younger halfas came rushing back to him, and he couldn’t keep a small smile from coming to his lips. Maybe… maybe this is what she wanted too. A chance for happiness for everyone. They had been fighting for so long after all… maybe just maybe, this was everyone’s chance for redemption and in time, peace.

Vlad realized that this moment that he, was at a crossroads. Leaving the table now would mean no more association with Jasmine, and he could simply take Daniel away. However, if what the psychologist said was true, taking him now would just make everything end horribly for everyone. But if he stayed and _agreed_ to this compromise then maybe....

Danielle’s smiling face rose to his mind, following quickly by Daniel’s and Jasmine’s and finally his own. The four of them together sitting together at a dining table in the mansion, having dinner, at peace, and happy, truly happy despite the tragedy of their lives.

…Then maybe there could be happy ending for everyone.

“Vlad? What do you say?” Vlad was snapped out of his thoughts when Jasmine suddenly spoke up once more. Her hopeful eyes prodded at him again, and he could see them wanting the same chance for a happy future that he did. Maybe not the same one, but one in the same direction.

And so he made his choice, silently hoping that it was the right decision to make.

He looked her straight in the eyes, a small smile tugging to his lips. “I say, I think that’s a compromise I can deal with.” His voice came out surprisingly quiet, a shudder almost. It was filled with innumerable amount of emotions that he didn’t know he even had.

And the deal was made.

Apparently, he made the right choice in her eyes because she let out a sigh, her previous tension nearly gone at his decision. Even so, Jasmine gave him a stern look, though the hope in her voice was obvious. “But it will be a long process. It could take years.”

“So be it.” He said with a nod. “As long as Daniel can recover, I’ll do whatever it takes... though you should get him off that medicine.”

Before Jasmine could respond to this, there was suddenly the sound of a piano resounding from the bedroom, Beethoven maybe? It was still odd to say the least, and if wasn’t for the lack of spectral activity in the area, he might have thought it to be a ghost.

Apparently, Jasmine knew what was going on because she gave a small, embarrassed smile. “Sorry, that’s my phone, let me get it, since it might be work.” Ah, that was a ring tone. To be completely honest, it wasn’t surprising that she would choose classical music.

He waved her off. “It’s no problem, my dear. Just hurry back.” She nodded and hurried out of the room to get the phone before it went to voicemail. He chuckled at her antics before looking back to his plate. Only a few crumbles remained of the previous cookies remained.

Vlad looked back towards the bedroom Jasmine disappeared to. Everything was changing again. He could practically feel it. This time, Vlad hoped that he was to be on the right side of change.

The man nearly snorted to himself. To think, he came in here thinking he would be giving Jasmine as hard time, and now he was actually _cooperating_ with her.

He sighed. His life hadn’t been this complicated in years. Somehow, he didn’t know whether to feel annoyed or relieved.

After a few moments of deciding whether or not it was rude to take the last cookie in the center plate, the door suddenly slammed open and Jasmine practically ran out of the room in a rush. Before he could ask her anything, she swept past him, picking up car keys from a small bin in the kitchen, and rushing towards the front.

He blinked. “Jasmine?”

She didn’t respond. Vlad was growing worried, as she cursed softly when her shoes wouldn’t go on her feet. The girl stumbled to grab her doctor’s coat that hung on the coat rack and put on her shoes at the same time. However, she lost her balance and fell to the floor with a loud thunk.

“Sweet Logs!” He rushed out of his chair and towards the fallen girl, who had pushed the coat rack messily towards the couch. As he reached out to help her up, she ignored his presence and pushed herself up with the wall as leverage, seemingly not to see him. Her red hair fell haphazardly around her face, flying in random directions. But she didn’t seem to care, in fact, the young woman was acting like a wild animal with no other purpose but to get out of the house as quickly as possible.

His worry grew exponentially. Before she could fully get the doctor’s coat on, which had somehow gotten turned inside out, he grabbed her arm and looked her sternly in the eyes. “Jasmine! Tell me what is wrong before you give me a heart attack!”

“Vlad,” Something in her tone made him freeze, the obviously scared yet determined at the same time. She swallowed and looked at him shakily, his stomach dropping at her words. “Vlad please! Something’s wrong with Danny and his ice core is going crazy. Now let me go so I can get there before he accidently blows up the entire facility!”

And with that, his happily ever after he had imagined started to fade.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This will be the last time this story is updated this quickly. I'm caught up with FF.net, so now there will be once a month updates. However, chapter 4 is nearly done, so it might not be a whole month. It just depends. Either way, sorry for the wait, but my chapters are really long, so I don't feel so bad about it. 
> 
> Anyway, thanks for reading! See you next time :D


	4. Interlude: The Dog of Arkham

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Danny is crazy and Harley isn't helping one bit.

 

* * *

 “ _And all the people say…_  
‘You can’t wake up, this is not a dream,’  
‘You’re part of a machine, you are not a human being,’  
‘With your face all made up, living on a screen,’  
‘Low on self-esteem, so you run on gasoline,’

_(Oh, ooh oh, ooh oh, oh)_  
I think there’s a flaw in my code…  
(Oh, ooh oh, ooh oh, oh)  
These voices won’t leave me alone…

_My heart is Gold, and my hands are Cold…”_

“Gasoline” ~Halsey

* * *

 

Everyone was looking, but nobody was truly seeing him. Not really. They saw the nervous jitters and his strained face, but they didn’t see the utter wreck his mind had become in the last few hours… well, an increased wreckage to be more concise. For a good comparison, it was like his mind transformed from a three car pile up into a six lane one on a major highway with raging fires and cool explosions.

Danny absently wondered how many movies with epic car scenes had come out in the last three years.

Harley would laugh at his dilemma about his insanity. Say that he needed to embrace whatever was making him break and use to his best advantage. Say that it was okay. Say that being sane was overrated.

But if he let go of his fears and caved into insanity, what would he become?

Danny didn’t know himself anymore. Not really. He thought he had been improving. Jazz had said so, but in the end that was a lie. An unintentional one built off his positive reactions, of course, but a lie nevertheless.

Stupid Vlad. Stupid medicine. Stupid PTSD. Stupid almost everything other than Jazz.

One little thing had set him off, and he could barely get the will to stand up to go to the cafeteria with the other villains. How pathetic was that? Okay, _maybe_ Vlad scrambling his mind by making his stupid nightmares a reality was not something _little,_ but literally having an emotional breakdown over the color red was absolutely and utterly stupid. Heck, it didn’t even look like blood!

Stupid Vlad for making him ultra-sensitive to the color red. Stupid hyper-realistic nightmares. Stupid Guys in-

Danny had to stop himself from continuing that train of thought before he accidently blew up the cafeteria or something stupid like that.

Did he mention how stupid this situation was?

Looking back, he would concede that today wasn’t his worst day ever (which, if anyone said they had a worst ‘worst day of their life’ than him, either they were a liar or they had been through hell and back at least three and a half times and had his complete and utter sympathy). However, that wasn’t such a glowing endorsement considering he felt completely and utterly drained from acting like a mad man. He did get some energy to stand when a guard showed up to take him to dinner, but it had been a near thing. Even so, he almost didn’t make it to his usual place in the cafeteria before collapsing in a chair.

Currently, Danny was sitting at his table, body scrunched up, and mind reeling, as he swirled his mashed potatoes in circles. Half his mind was mesmerized by the patterns he was making in the food, and the other part of him simply trying to find something to hold on to lest it break down into tiny little pieces.

Although, the mental image of Vlad suddenly bursting through the cafeteria doors and dragging him off by the scuff of his neck was not helping matters _at all._

“Hey Spooks, what was with your little freak out earlier, huh?” _Harley_ , some vague part of him answered. But he ignored her, too preoccupied keeping himself together long enough to get back to his cell, “Spoooooks,” She drawled childishly.

This continued for a while. She was whining and drawling out his name to get his attention. At one point, she stole his apple and starting crunching it loudly right next to his ear. The villain seemed to be trying every tactic in her repertoire that didn’t require poisoning, maiming, or otherwise hurting him to get his attention. She probably wouldn’t have been so insistent if ‘Mr. J’ and Ivy hadn’t broken out a couple months ago. But as fate would have it, they were gone, and Harley had no one to ‘play’ with so to speak.

Other than ‘Spooks,’ of course.

Danny didn’t know what to think of the nickname. Yes, he was terrified that someone would connect his flashing green eyes to his ghost half, but who could care enough to figure that out? Because, really, connecting Spooks, unknown inmate, clearly alive and unwell to Danny Phantom, the ghostly hero of Amity Park that disappeared years ago? It was ridiculous.

_Vlad did._

Yes, Vlad did, but he was a fruit loop. _The_ Fruitloop. And besides, he had known his identity beforehand, so he didn’t count.

…And now he was talking to himself. Great. Fan-freaking-tastic. Mentally, he added ‘potentially schizophrenic’ to reasons why he might be insane.

Maybe he was already insane. If he talked to Harley about it maybe she could even make it out as something to celebrate and throw a party of sorts. The mental image of Harley holding up a banner saying ‘Welcome to Insanity!’ and getting chased around by guards for having unauthorized items amused him.

His thoughts came to a sputtering halt when he felt someone grab him from behind. Instantly, his reflexes went into overdrive. He elbowed the person in the gut, twisted out of his seat, and pushed the potential threat to the wall behind him with one fluent motion. Instantly, one of his arms was pressed against the attacker’s neck, the other on the wall above their head, caging the person in case they tried to strike back.

He would be ready. He would be prepared. They will not get him. **You’re better than them, Danny!** Not again. No one will get him-

“Oww! Geez, take it easy, Spooks. No need to get so worked up!” Danny blinked at the feminine wheeze, his mind finally caught up to what was happening. Dazed, his looked down at the person he captured.

Oh… he attacked Harley. Further, he currently had her pressed up against the wall, almost cutting off her flow of oxygen and probably looking like he was either going to murder her or feel her up…Or both.

Before he could even react, he felt two rough hands pull him away from her. He resisted the urge to fight them off, knowing that if he tried to attack the people restraining him, who he supposed were the guards, that the situation would end badly. Instead, he allowed the people to knock him down to his knees with nothing more than a grunt as a response.

“Behave like the dog you are,” One of the men hissed into his ear, as if mere words would assert his authority.

An odd thought distracted him. _Was_ he a dog now? That seemed like an improvement to his current situation. At least dogs were happy creatures most of the time. Look at Cujo! He was dead and still was a happy puppy at heart! …Okay, maybe that was a bad example, but Danny certainly didn’t feel the joyful freedom that being a dog could bring. Wait, no, that wasn’t fair to Jazz. He felt happy when he was with her, and he sometimes felt a marginal bit of happiness when it came to Harley’s annoyance. With that logic, he _could_ be considered a dog. He surely attacked and obeyed like one.

As he contemplated his identity dilemma, he absently noticed being forced to stand from his position on the floor and having cuffs clicked onto his wrists behind him (second time today, he noted). They dragged him away, away from Harley, away from the cafeteria, and away from any more potential disasters today (hopefully). As he was _again_ pushed to the floor of his cell for the _second_ time that day, he was left on the white tiled ground, but this time without being uncuffed. He sighed from his uncomfortable position on the floor, thinking that the day couldn’t get much worse.

Wait, a minute, did he just?... Dang, Murphy was going to be a bitch wasn’t he? Considering Danny’s life, yes, yes he was.

…Stupid Murphy’s Law.

With a resigned sigh, Danny peeled himself from his position on the tiled cell and crawled to his bed, not particularly having the urge to stand up. Well, kind of crawled. The boy didn’t know if walking on one’s knees counted as crawling. He stumbled to the floor enough times in the process to count at the very least, so he designated his movements as such.

He didn’t bother getting under his blanket when he finally made it to his bed. The thin fabric provided little comfort against the cool metal, but he was used to the hardness by this point. In fact, sleep sounded very good to him at the moment.

Suddenly, he just felt tired. Physically, mentally, and emotionally exhausted. It was if the entire day’s events just caught up to him in that one moment and decided to assault him. Judging by how hard it was to keep his eyelids open, the attack was working quite effectively.

Some minor annoying part of him was against sleeping. Something disastrous would happen… maybe? He ignored the feeling in favor of laying against his side, curling in on himself with a small sigh.

As Danny’s eyes drooped closed, the sounds of the world around him seemed insignificant, a mere annoying buzz compared to the seductive pull of sleep that promised to bring sweet relief. Sleep was a siren’s song in this never-ending typhoon, and Danny didn’t have the will or the need to stop its call. 

And so he fell asleep, chained, tired, but hoping for a nice, dreamless night.

Unfortunately, in the excitement of the day and the exhaustion of the afternoon, he had forgotten about a very important part of his routine, a part that would lead to a torrent of ice unconsciously creeping from his ice core, powerful enough to break the eight inhibitors and cause chaos around Gotham. It would seal his inevitable fate, leading to the chain of events that would change everything, may it be for better or for worse.

Yes, in his need for rest, he had forgotten his medicine.


	5. Arkham: The Stage of the Tempest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which ice, Vlad, and Arkham don't mix, but apparently smoke and Jazz does. Who knew?

* * *

 

_“Vlad please! Something’s wrong with Danny, and his ice core is going crazy. Now let me go so I can get there before he accidently blows up the entire facility!”_

_And with that, the happily ever after he had imagined started to fade._

**[CoaSP]**

After a stunned silence from Vlad and much fidgeting on Jazz’s part, the billionaire burst into a fit of questions about Danny, everything from the validity of the call to specifics on his actual conditions. With an annoyed, impatient huff, Jazz said that the call was from the Warden herself, and that she didn’t say any specifics other than ‘there’s ice releasing uncontrollably around Spooks, so get your ass down here and help stop it!’

Seeing the young woman’s irritation, Vlad finally calmed down enough (or at least forced himself into some façade of tranquility) to offer to fly Jazz to Arkham. She initially refused, since, while grateful for the offer, Jazz would have no way to explain how she arrived so fast on foot. However, Vlad pointed out that the girl was supposed to be on an errand that afternoon anyway, so it wouldn’t be that hard to twist her story enough that she had been near the area at the time. The only thing the shrink would have to do was put on regular clothes, or business casual Vlad had said with a smirk.

And so that was how, seven minutes after getting the call and an awkward conversation on how she should grab on to the halfa (they settled with grabbing each other’s wrists),  Jazz, wearing a nice blouse and slacks, was now only moments away from breaking away from Vlad in their invisible flight.

Unfortunately, that might prove an issue with the sight that greeted them, for it was a million times worse than anything she could ever imagine.

“Oh, Cream Puffs…” Jazz heard Vlad whisper quietly beside her, the grip on her wrist tightening. The shrink had to concede that the strange pastry form of cursing, while rather humorous in any other circumstance, summed up the feelings about the situation nicely.

Arkham, which had been broken out of too many times to be considered impenetrable, had the prestige to at least be called highly secured. Every inch of the mental hospital practically screamed ‘keep out’ and ‘dangerous’, what with its eerily hillside location, heavy concrete walls, and newly installed titanium lining. Don’t even get someone started on the highly gated outer walls, bright search lights, massive security check-ins, or the fact that the place was practically crawling with (semi) vigilant officers of all different colors, sizes, ages, and personal agendas.

Yes, the mental hospital for the criminally insane was considered highly secured, if not nearly impenetrable.

With this reasoning, one would imagine it was hard to comprehend the large amount of ice creeping out of the side of the asylum. It was even harder to accept that this ice, cracking and practically destroying the building seemingly without any effort, was done unconsciously, an _accident_.

And if one were to look closer, they could see the powerful crystal was still growing and, if Jazz judged it correctly, gaining speed.

It was amazing in a demented sort of way. On the back right corner of Arkham, a giant wall of ice, easily rising from the ground to at least a floor above the facility, imbedded itself into the entire fifteen floors of the building. While the ice did creep out to the front and other sections, the crystal seemed to concentrate in that one area. It was as if it was a trap against potential thieves, guarding a precious treasure from the likes of those who sought to disturb its proper resting place. While the main danger was at the ice’s center, one would be a fool to try to enter the facility with the whirling winds billowing around the building with such a force that Jazz could feel even from their spot above the Arkham’s gates. 

One could imagine that it didn’t take long for the genius red head to put two and two together and realize that Danny was in the center of the commotion. Nor did it take her long to understand that (minus the intervention of Superman or maybe Vlad) she was the only who could stop this mess… if only she could get to Danny somehow.

Jazz stared, dazed at the scene before her. The trail up to Arkham, which most of the time was completely desolate, was filled to the brim with different types of vehicles. Police cars, ambulances, and firetrucks were all outside the building, flaring their lights, mixing confusingly with the slowly setting sun’s orange glow. A constant barrage of sirens mixed with the sound of the collapsing asylum overwhelmed her senses.

People ran around frantically like ants being torn from their home by a petulant child. Police officers were directing people here and there, firemen were guiding building personal out of the wreckage, as nurses from the ambulances checked for injuries. In little huddled groups, inmates that had been forced to leave their cells had been surrounded by security to keep from escaping, the wary officers holding their guns with undoubtedly eager trigger fingers.

Jazz’s eyes trailed down the hill. She idly noted that police barriers had been set up, extending from the center of the hill all the way to the street beyond the open gate. In fact, if Jazz looked close enough, she could see police officers doing crowd control, keeping the recklessly ambitious newscasters and curious civilians from getting close to the scene.

From what she’d seen so far, Jazz assumed that most of the villains that she knew would try or had tried to break out, already did so or were captured, considering the lack of explosions and screaming from civilians. Even so, as she watched the creeping ice and the chaos surrounding it, there was enough of a mess to make even that silver lining seem almost worthless.

Watching the massive amount of emergency personal trying to do… well, _anything_ to stop the destruction and keep more villains from escaping in the chaos, Jazz realized that her entire body felt numb, a freezing stillness that made it impossible to feel conventional warmth. It was as if a cold coil had wound up her insides, tightening each joint and muscle until it felt like she couldn’t move without breaking, making her brittle from the inside out. The only source of warmth was at her gut, but the feeling wasn’t entirely comforting. It was a churning, sickening heat that made bile rise up to her throat, and the contrasting feeling only made her more nauseous. It didn’t help that the evening cool had started to settle, making every small breath sting.

She swallowed, trying to calm the stone that had surely dropped into her stomach.

Jazz knew what these feelings were; it was described in her books enough. Firstly, her body had gone into shock, not seeming to cope with the knowledge about how disastrous the situation was. The churning was a result of the part of her mind that was able to cope or, at the very least, understand what was going on. Probably, panic mixed with dread about the possible implications of what would happen in the future. Now that she thought about, her heartbeat sounded unusually loud as well. That was also panic, she concluded.

Understanding what was wrong was the first step to any recovery. Whether it be a major incident or simply calming oneself down, it didn’t matter. Knowing her emotions made them easier to understand, and in turn, allowed her to focus in a positive manner. So the girl took a deep breath, suppressing the sickening feeling and forced herself to calm her rapidly beating heart.

It worked marginally, but if she were to have any chance of helping Danny, she needed to have a level head and not freak out over the destructive ice. She took another deep breath and felt the cold coils loosen, as she let the air out with a small sigh.

Okay. Better. Now focus. Save Danny now. Freak out later… but when would later be?

She pushed the unpleasant thought and of her head and looked towards Vlad, who had been holding her wrist in a near death grip. Since they were both invisible, in some sort of logic that only made sense to ghosts, they could both see each other. Currently, he was staring at the ice in shock, shaking his head slightly as if denying that the crystal was even there.

No, this would not do…especially since if he wasn’t focusing, he could very well accidently drop their invisibility, or worse, the extension of his flight to her person.

“Vlad,” Jazz whispered. Unfortunately, he seemed too caught up in staring. She huffed and used the arm that wasn’t being held captive by Vlad to pull at his sleeve, hissing the next few words, “ _Vlad, wake up.”_

He looked sharply towards her, blinking a bit as he looked between the ice and her face. He shook his head, and _finally_ focused. Once comprehension was reached, Vlad let out a deep sigh, not unlike Jazz’s from moments before, “Sorry, Jasmine. I lost myself for a moment there…” He paused again, looking at the ice, “Is that really-?”

“-Danny in the center of that?” She interjected, “Based on what we know, unfortunately, yes,” The man nodded weakly at her explanation, eyes staring at the ice in amazement. The fact that she could read his emotions so easily showed how off balance the entire situation put him.

“He’s grown quite strong over the years,” Vlad managed to whisper. Jazz could practically see him trying to calculate Danny’s spectral level with the analytical look on his face, “Even with the lapse of training in at least the last year, his core is still able to protect him with this much power. Even more impressive, at a subconscious level… meaning if he were to concentrate on training…” Jazz did not like the odd little twinkle that shone in the man’s eyes, nor the upward quirking of his lips, “Amazing. To think that Daniel-”

“-Needs my help,” He shot her a flashing glare at the second interruption. She ignored it, “Now, put me down so I can get in there and stop this mess.”

Vlad momentarily forgot his anger in favor of arching an eyebrow. His grip tightened on her wrist, “Jasmine,” She bristled at the admonishing tone, “Rushing into things without a plan will not solve anything.”

“Like you’re one to talk,” She mumbled, eyes trailing to the asphalt below her. When thinking that yes, the ground _was_ too far to pull away from Vlad’s grasp without becoming a splattered mess, she pursed her lips and looked back towards her obviously annoyed captor.

She saw his eye make an impressive twitch, “Contrary to your opinion, my plan was to see Daniel’s status with my own eyes and then act accordingly,” She rolled her eyes at the remark, though didn’t comment, not wanting to start that argument at moment, “However, that’s neither here nor there. What is here and is of immediate importance is making sure we do not make the situation even worse by not making a _plan._ ”

Jazz shrugged, “Okay, while you plan, I’ll be productive and save Danny.”

Unsurprisingly, the halfa had an objection to this. He sent a glare towards her, “And how do you suppose you do that?” He smirked dryly, “Am I under the perception that you are able to waltz past the police barrier without any issues?”

“I’m under direct orders from the Warden herself to come and help with the situation. I doubt they’ll stop me,” At least, it would be to the Warden’s best interest to inform the barrier.

Vlad’s smirk grew greater, becoming more devious. “Oh, so you have verification that you are in fact Jasmine Fenton, psychologist at Arkham, in those tiny little pockets?” He sent a pointed look towards her empty slacks, which, truthfully, had little room in them for anything other than, perhaps, a few pieces of lint.

Jazz flinched, her mind traitorously showing her the image of a forgotten wallet on top of her dresser. Trying to recover, she forced herself to meet his triumphant, red eyed gaze. If worse came to worse Vlad could intervene and help her through, but until then…

“She’ll let me in,” She concluded, holding herself straighter in the air, “So you should let me down.”

She expected him to argue more, and it seemed he would, judging by the way his smirk fell for a moment. However, true to his stubborn nature, the dark smirk reappeared once more, his pointed fangs glaring strangely against the blue and red sirens.

“Alright Jasmine, if you’re so sure,” He drawled, sounding as if he was humoring a small child, “But what then? How will you pass that massive block of ice? Laser vison?” He paused, scrunching his face as if contemplating something. Then he came to his ‘realization,’ his eyes widening dramatically. His mouth turned into a perfect ‘o’, as he gestured to himself with an over exaggerated twirl of his wrist of his free hand, “Oh, _wait_ , that’s _my_ power. You’re just a simple, little human. My mistake. You know how forgetful I can be,” A final fanged smirk finished his performance.

It took most of Jazz’s will power to retain her calm mindset and not immediately throttle the pompous man for his attitude.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath before continuing. Though there may or may not have been a slight twitching in her left eye, “Vlad, we don’t have time for games. What are you trying to say?”

He waved her off with a gesture off was anything but flippant, “I’m just pointing out that you may need my help if you-”

“No,” She said, cutting him off before he could continue that train of thought. While she had been grateful for his assistance so far, ‘Vlad’ and ‘helping’ would not work well together further into this expedition…especially when it came to using laser eyes.

Unsurprisingly, the halfa was not pleased with her reaction. The banter before, while condescending, was playful, but in a moment, the light-hearted look in his eyes was gone, a dangerous glint remaining in his snarl of a smirk.

“Be reasonable, _my dear_ ,”He practically hissed the supposed name of endearment, “While you may pretend that you’re invincible, may I remind you that you’re only human? A human who could easily be destroyed by a mere twist flick of a wrist by one of these criminals?”

She bit her lip when Vlad dug his sharpened nails into her wrist.

Jazz never expected their alliance to come easily. True, they had the same end goal of saving Danny, but a couple of feeble words couldn’t erase the years of animosity and distrust that existed between the two of them. They had different methods, different ideals, and in the end, entirely different definitions on what “safe and sound” meant.

But at the same time, it frustrated Jazz that Vlad would automatically assume that she wanted to push him away because of… whatever reason his mind concocted. For being a genius billionaire, Vlad sure did lack basic logic.

She met his infuriated gaze, “Look, think about it. If I suddenly show up with Plasmius tailing me, people will undoubtedly make the connection between you and Danny. Now, before you say anything about being at Arkham this morning and your cover already being blown,” Jazz added when she saw Vlad start to protest, “This morning’s… _meeting,_ for all intents and purposes didn’t happen. There were no records kept and only a couple people even knew you were there.

“Now, if _Jazz Fenton_ and _Vlad Plasmius_ went to Arkham together to save the mysterious Spooks,” She sent a pointed look at Vlad, “Well, let’s just say we might as well kiss Danny’s secret goodbye.”

The halfa contemplated her words, the grip on her wrist loosening the slightest bit. Jazz watched as his face transformed from being consorted with suppressed rage to narrowing with suspicion to finally pursing his lips and looking away. 

“I will concede that you _may_ have a point,” He relented reluctantly. Jazz didn’t comment, letting him gather his pride from his ridiculous outburst. Vlad gave her a pointed look, “but that still does not solve the issue at hand.”

Jazz sighed, “Do you have any better ideas?”

“Well…”

“Any ideas that don’t involve using your laser eyes.”

He huffed, “I could simply phase us through the ice to get to Daniel and calm him down. Once he’s fine, we will escape as if you had never been there, and then after everything is set and done, you rush through the front gates as if you just arrived. The officials will think he gained consciousness and stopped the ice himself or that he ran out of energy. He will be safe, the ice gone, and no one makes any connection between Daniel and I,” He smirked, “See? Simple.”

She blinked, “That’s…” She paused and blinked again. She ran through Vlad’s plan through her mind, trying to find _something_ wrong with it, but with the limited information they had and the possible repercussions of her own plan... well, score for the Fruitloop.

She nodded to herself, looking at the ice with renewed hope, “That’s good. Yeah, let’s do that.” There was a long silence. When Jazz looked back at Vlad, who was staring at her with an incredulous expression, she frowned. “What?”

He continued to stare for a moment, before shaking his head and abruptly turning towards Arkham, “It’s nothing, just a strange thought. Nothing for you to worry about,” He said quickly, and she noted that he was purposely trying not to look at her, “Now, shall we go?” Before she could respond, he pulled her arm, and they started flying towards the building.

Jazz twisted her head towards Vlad, who had made a point of not looking at her face, opting instead to stare ahead at the mess before them. Unfortunately, with the way he was pulling her arm, she couldn’t see the man’s expression. Although she had a feeling it would be purposely blank if she were to see it.

She furrowed her eyebrows in confusion but didn’t ask about… whatever just happened, shoving the infinite amount of questions that popped into her mind away for the moment. If he wanted to explain his reaction, then it would be on him to do so. Probing him for information would lead to instant denial and she would gain less information in the long run. However, Jazz did mentally store the scene for analysis at a later date.

As Vlad planned, they flew invisibly above the chaos and towards where it looked like the barrier was thickest, the forbidden icy right corner of the asylum. She idly noted the people running around in panic and the various vehicles parked… wait, was that the Batmobile?

She blinked and tried to focus on the ground, but they were flying too fast. Jazz only caught a glimpse of the shiny, black car before the icy building blocked her view again.

However, that one view more than confirmed that they needed to be as inconspicuous as possible. She knew she shouldn’t be that surprised, but honestly, the superhero made her job ten times more difficult. If Batman was here, and if he found out that both Jazz and Vlad were working together to get ‘Spooks’ to stop the ice then the Dark Knight would figure out Danny’s identity faster than Tucker could eat a Nasty Burger.

While he wasn’t the worst person to find out, Jazz would rather no one know who Spooks truly was. Vlad knowing was bad enough. At least for him, she could read his intentions and make compromises accordingly. With Batman, there were too many unknown factors for her liking, especially considering that if her hunch was right, he would try to get Danny out of Arkham as soon as possible. Which, if she was honest with herself, with the way things were going, there might not be an Arkham left by the time this mess was over.

She pushed those unpleasant thoughts away and bit her lip. Save Danny now. Focus on Batty disasters later.

As the duo glided closer, the temperature dropped dramatically, sending the early August heat to Christmas winter chills. At a few mere feet away, the air seemed to be frozen as the crystal radiated cold energy that left her entire body wracked with uncontrollable shivers and every hair standing on edge. Jazz held her free arm closer to herself, narrowing her eyes as the cool, icy wind bit at her face and bare arms. Absently, she thought that she should have brought a jacket, as she saw her breath puff out in wisps.

It was odd seeing her breath when she was invisible.

“Extraordinary…” Jazz heard Vlad whisper breathlessly, and she agreed completely. Now that they were closer, she couldn’t help but stare at the energy hypnotically swirling in the crystal.

Lying just beneath the surface was a light, icy blue substance that absolutely glowed with power. It nearly stole her breath away, as the slowly churning pot of core energy sparkled exotically, reflecting the contrasting blue, red, and orange lights from the world around it. If she looked closer, Jazz could see a thicker speckled green energy mixing with the cool blue.

Though why ecto-energy was in the ice, she didn’t know. However, the unusual occurrence did have her feeling uneasy, especially when the ice starting to build up on itself. With every passing second, a bit of ectoplasm would reach the surface of the crystal, providing a base as ice creeped up and around the green substance and thickening the barrier around Danny.

Considering its actions, it wouldn’t take much to convince her that the crystal was actually _alive,_ which she found highly ironic considering it was a ghost power that achieved this mess.

Jazz shook her head, pushing away any thoughts that could distract her. She once again used her free hand to tug at Vlad’s sleeve, “So can you phase through it?”

Vlad looked sharply towards her, blinking dazedly for a second as if rewinding what she said… again. After a moment, he frowned slightly, a worried expression appearing on his face, “To be completely honest, I’m not entirely sure.”

Jazz matched his frown, “What do you mean?”

Vlad narrowed his eyes in annoyance, “What I _mean_ is that this that I’ve recorded Daniel’s ice abilities and similar core energies before, but I’ve never encountered a circumstance where ecto-energy had been submerged with the ghost’s core energy like this. Because of this, it’s possible that I won’t be able to phase through the ice,” He paused, and after a second, a small smile reached his lips, “Though, this doesn’t mean I won’t make an attempt.”

She could tell that his smiling was simply a way to hide the uncertainty, so she let it go. In the end, Jazz smiled back reassuring, playing off his antics, “Alright Mr. High and Mighty, put your money where your mouth is and phase us through this before I turn into a Jazz-sicle.”

He blinked and blinked some more, looking at her with an expression she couldn’t place. After a moment, he just shook his head and rubbed the area between his temples, his melodramatic nature feigning a headache, “Jasmine, you surprise me at the oddest times.”

She shrugged, closed her eyes, and whispered, her voice barely audible in the rushing frost bitten wind, “I’m a Fenton. It’s what we do,” Jazz’s smile grew small and a bit sad. She let out a shaky breath, the wind’s bite stinging her bare arms more than before.

The halfa was silent for a moment. Jazz couldn’t tell whether he was shocked or simply contemplating her words. However, she didn’t dare open her eyes to look, knowing she would only see blazing red irises looking back at her.

It wasn’t until he let out a haggard breath that he spoke again, “Yes, I do suppose it is,” He managed to say. Jazz ignored the thick quality of his voice.

The atmosphere seemed to shift again, becoming buzzed with a tense, almost electric quality. Although, that could be the stinging wind sending static chills throughout her body, she suspected that the time for silly banter was over.

True enough, Jazz soon felt her entire body become blanketed with an icy hot energy. It was odd. While she undeniably felt a _warm_ buzzing around her, her skin crawled like it had been dunked in a bucket of ice water. She supposed it was Vlad’s fire core that caused the conflicting sensations. 

She opened her eyes and glanced at Vlad, frowning at the blank look on his face, “Vlad? You okay?” She whispered.

“Of course, of course…” He mumbled, but the fidgeting of his free hand didn’t reassure her in the slightest. He pursed his lips and then nodded as if deciding something, “I would like to make to confirm my suspicions on something,” Before she could ask what he was about to do, Vlad reached forward and tried to push through the ice with his intangible hand.

Emphasis on tried.

Instead of phasing through the crystal as planned, his hand met the ice barrier as if he hadn’t even attempted to go through it. The ice hissed like a viper on contact, a small amount of light blue smoke emitting from the crystal in protest. The green energy within the ice buzzed around Vlad’s hand, stinging him, judging by his wince of pain.

Jazz shivered when the steam-like air blasted her. Through chattering teeth she wanted to ask why it didn’t work, but she couldn’t control herself enough to speak up.

Vlad let out a small sigh, the puff billowing in the icy wind, before sneering distastefully at his hand, “I was afraid of this,” She narrowed her frosted eyes.

“Y-y-you kn-n-n-ew this-s-s w-w-would ha-a-a-app-pen?” She managed to say, slightly annoyed at the fact he didn’t even look chilled.

He shook his head, “No, but I had my suspicions. Judging by the ice’s actions, it would seem as if his core has created a barrier against any intruders. It looks like we will have to use force to get in,”

With one more clouded sigh, he went to pull his hand off the ice… only to have it stay there, seemingly glued to the crystal.

A chill that wasn’t from the wind went down Jazz’s spine, “V-v-v-v-vlad? W-w-w-wh-hat-t-t-t-t are you d-d-d-doing?” She noted that vine-like trails of green energy were starting to trail up his fingers, wrapping around the digits like grape tendrils on a fence. Based on what they’ve seen so far, it would only be a matter of time before frost engulfed his entire arm.

“It seems as though I’m stuck,” He replied, sounding more fascinated than worried. He tugged his hand once more, a frustrated frown appearing. After a minute or two of trying to unsuccessfully pull his hand away (with some attempts looking almost strong enough to dislocate his arm), Vlad looked back at Jazz, annoyance clear on his face, “Hold on for a moment.”

“L-l-l-l-lik-k-ke I-I c-c-c-c-could do m-m-much els-s-s-s-se,” She mumbled quietly, watching him close his eyes in concentration. The shrink glanced down and was suddenly highly aware about how high they were floating. Her stomach lurched, as she saw the ant-like people scurry below her. At the moment, the odd lightness that came from ghost flight still lifted her. However, if she were to fall…

Another shiver ran down Jazz’s spine, and she gripped Vlad’s arm tighter. She looked back at him, determined not to let her thoughts stray back to morbidity.

Vlad’s arm and hand suddenly tensed. For a moment, nothing happened. The only movement was the chaotic world below them and the flurrying wind ruffling her hair (which she should have realized earlier was odd, considering she was intangible, confirming the unnatural nature of the wind).

And then she saw his hand glow red with fire energy.

Suddenly, another hiss resounded from the crystal, an almost screaming sound that made Jazz flinch and her heart skip a beat. Near instantly, green and blue smoke spurted out of the crystal and surrounded them furiously. Reflexively, Jazz closed her eyes, clenched her mouth closed, and brought up her arm to cover her nose, trying to do her best to bury her head into her bicep.

When the smoke struck, she expected it to sting or at the very least, make her feel even colder (although with icicles hanging off her lashes, she didn’t think that was possible). However, for some reason, the smoke felt nice…welcoming even.

The two energies felt distinct across her skin. One was almost hyperactive, zipping across her body as if needing to check every inch of her.  It tickled and teased at her skin, and at points it flew through her already windblown hair, messing it up even further. The other hugged her body in a friendly embrace, a light mother-like touch that soothed her tense muscles as it glazed across her skin. In fact, it relaxed her so much that she almost dropped her guard to uncover her face. Jazz caught herself in time, of course, but she was surprised when the cooling energy ruffled, as if it was annoyed by her lack of compliance.

The oddest thing about the smoke wasn’t its behavior, though that did raise a lot of questions in her mind. No, the oddest part was that she didn’t feel cold anymore. While the temperature wasn’t exactly a warm summer breeze, the air only felt marginally cool, not at all like the polar levels from before.

“Jasmine, open your eyes. I need to check something,” Vlad’s throat sounded scratchy like he had just swallowed a bucket full of sand. At his voice, the smoke bristled protectively over her again; the energetic energy bounced across her arms, and the cooler one tightened around her stomach.

She refused to comply. Jazz didn’t want to risk it. While she didn’t get the impression that the fog would hurt her, so many things could end disastrously if she was wrong. 

“Jasmine, please!” There was a round of coughing as he gasped for breath. The pressure on her wrist tightened again, holding her in a painful grip that would surely leave marks later.

She considered her options. On one hand, she was risking potential internal damage to her eyes and throat if she let herself open up. On the other hand, Vlad sounded off, almost desperate sounding. Vlad never sounded desperate, at least if he could help it.

After a moment of consideration, Jazz huffed mentally. If she was killed by this, she was _so_ going to haunt Vlad for all of eternity.

Slowly, she opened her clenched eyes, narrowing them, as the wind whirled around her. She took a moment to analyze the situation.

Okay, good news, her eyes weren’t freezing or stinging that irritably. Bad news, she couldn’t see Vlad from where her head was angled.

Pursing her lips, Jazz tentatively lowered her arm a few inches away from her body. She took a small breath to test the smoke, ready to cover her face at a moment’s notice. However, to her surprise, other than a small tickling coolness, each breath was practically normal.

“Really, Jasmine?”  She could practically hear the scowl in his voice, “This is not the time for such things.”

Jazz rolled her eyes and looked back at the halfa, “Excuse me Vlad for- what the heck?” She gaped at him, “You’re stuck in the ice!”

She stared, horrified at the sight. Vlad had been practically sucked into the ice barrier. From his finger tips to right above his elbow, Vlad’s entire arm was encased in the blue-green ice, the rest of his body nearly pressed to the crystal. It was as if it had grabbed him and pulled him under in the vastness, like a child would do at a swimming pool. However, unlike a kid, no matter how hard Vlad tried to pull his arm out, the ice and green ecto-energy just held him tighter.

With every passing moment, the green tendrils from before creeped higher on his arms, the energy already almost reaching his shoulder. The ecto-trails hissed and buzzed dangerously, creating blotchy, painful looking welts that tore through his suit in its path to consume Vlad.

The ice itself somehow scared her the most. Gone was the smooth hypnotic swirling from before. Instead, it spun around in rapid whirlpools of energy. The blue moved like the sea in a storm, waves of icy blue overlapping in such rapid succession that it looked like they were attacking themselves while the ectoplasmic green sparked faster and faster with every second, moving everywhere it could, it seemed. The green flew in the veins of the irritated blue whirl pools, grabbed Vlad’s already to pull him under even further into the abyss and worst of all, kept climbing steadily upward to add to the already growing ecto-energy starting to encase Vlad’s body. 

At this point, Vlad and Jazz were flying awkwardly in the air. The halfa had his body angled so that he was still flying vertically, but he had to twist his free shoulder enough to hold Jazz away from the ice. He was straining himself to get as far away as possible from the building without permanently damaging himself, and Jazz could tell it was only a matter of time before it became too much for him.

Overall, the situation was not good, to say the least, and rescuing Danny might have just become a second priority.

Vlad scowled at her remark, “Your observational skills are astounding.” His voice was merely a wheeze, and the round of coughing that followed sounded dry and painful. Once he was done, he wrinkled his nose and eyed the ice warily, “Issues,” He finished simply, pulling his trapped arm for emphasis.

“What can we do?” If Vlad couldn’t get out, then she couldn’t get down. If that happened then either she would get stuck on the building as a Jazz-sicle or be a Fen-cake on the ground. With Vlad’s weakening state from the smoke, which she assumed had somehow attacked his ecto-energy, it would only be a matter of time before his powers wore out. Already, she could feel the intangibility wear away as the icy hot tingle slowly started to fade away from her body.

Jazz tried to think of a plan, but kept pulling blanks. Vlad’s fire core couldn’t do anything without adding more of the smoke, physical abilities obviously weren’t working, and it wasn’t like she could do much. With the rate of things were going...

She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself before the coils tightened again. Calm. She needed to be level headed and calm. Jazz let out a stuttering breath and gripped Vlad’s wrist tighter to stop her hand from shaking.

“Hand,” Her head snapped towards the halfa. He was grimacing from the pain but still managed to look authoritative at the same time. The two locked eyes, and then his gaze shifted to their locked hands, as he tugged at her wrist.

She furrowed her eyebrows in confusion, “What?” Vlad rolled his eyes and tugged again. He turned his head to her free hand, nodded to it and then looked back to his own stuck one. The halfa pulled again, pulling her dangerous close to the ice. In fact, if she reached out just a bit, her hand would certainly…

And then it clicked.

“What are you thinking Vlad!?” She hissed, using her leg as a kick board against Vlad to pull herself as far away from the ice as possible, ending up floating a little over an arm’s length from the ice, “If I put my hand there, we’ll both get stuck!”

Vlad grunted from the kick, eyes flashing at her with a quick glare. He attempted to growl, but it came out as another round of coughing. After he finished, he looked back at Jazz, and there was something in his second glare that made her pause in her struggles.

There was more than just simple annoyance (and pain) in his look. While, yes, she could clearly see signs of his growing exasperation with her, there was also a sort of desperation that crinkled his intense eyes.

It was a silent plea for her to agree to his plan.

She bit her lip and lowered her foot, still eyeing him cautiously. He matched her caution with a raised eyebrow and a crooked smile, as if to say, ‘oh _now_ you get it. You’re a bit late to the party.’ Though the smile was quick lived, dying to a grimace of pain.

_People don't do things without reasons, Vlad…_

Her own words from their previous conversation suddenly popped up in her mind. No, people didn’t do things without reasons… and now, she realized, now she would have to trust those reasons.

Jazz forced herself to relax, as she let out a stuttering breath, nodding to him, “Alright, I don’t know what you’re thinking in that Fruitloop head of yours, but we’ll try it,” His eyes widened before narrowing again. She rolled her own, “Look, we don’t have time to be suspicious of one another. Now, what am I doing?”

He eyed her for a moment, suspicion still obvious. Probably because of her quick agreement. However, his look was cut off with a wince and a small hiss under his breath. He glared at his trapped hand, probably mere seconds away from using his laser eyes at the crystal or something as equally conspicuous.

“Focus Vlad! Worry about getting revenge on the ice later,” Vlad’s gaze found its way back to Jazz. She could see the annoyance in his eyes, whether it be at her for interrupting his brooding or at the ice, she would never know. However, after one half-hearted glare at the crystal, he shook his head and nodded back to Jazz, a small amount of reassurance in his eyes that shook off a bit of the anxiety that had been building in her heart.

With a small tug, he guided her closer to the ice. Logically she knew that when one got closer to colder substances, one would transfer their heat back and forth as the universe attempted to create equilibrium between the two objects. In this case, Jazz was transferring her heat to the ice chilled air, and she was feeling colder in process. It was logical, nothing supernatural or freaky about it.

However, logic didn’t help her when her imagination insisted that the cold was trying to grab her and pull her down in the infinite blue and green swirling concoction. Her imagination also told her that it would swallow her whole, suffocating her as each tendril of green serpent-like energy ripped her apart molecule by molecule until there was nothing left of her that could be salvaged.

Jazz’s mind was not very helpful at times to say the least.

Nevertheless, she let herself be pulled closer, ignoring her pounding heart, the zipping energy traveling up and down her arms, and the curling smoke around her torso in favor on concentrating on the task ahead. Vlad must have noticed her panic because he gave her a small smile and nodded in an attempt to reassure her.

Unfortunately, his look didn’t loosen the coils one bit. Though she wouldn’t have him see this if she could help it.

At a mere quarter arm’s length away from the crystal, Vlad finally stopped pulling her.  In their flight, the two somehow managed to end up holding hands, but Jazz couldn’t bring herself to care. In fact, the strong grip steadied her, providing something physical to latch on to while her racing mind decided to point out how _bad_ this idea was and how it would end painfully if she didn’t pull away.

She bit her lip and gripped his hand tighter.

Currently, their forearms were nearly touching. Vlad was no longer straining to hold her out, but she could tell the ecto-energy was still bothering him. She stole a glance at his trapped arm. Frost was traveling upward, nearly reaching his shoulder. To her dismay, the ice had started to branch out to start covering his torso, attaching cobweb like crystals between the two body parts.  At the same time, the cold wisped up to catch her, feeling her, enticing her to come closer, to become attached, to be needed, to have her stay there trapped forever and ever and forever more until-

“What do you need me to do?” She cut off that train of thought abruptly. Jazz did not need to think about what she was doing and the stupidity of her actions.

“Hand,” He echoed from before. His scratchy voice grated on her nerves, tightening the coils near instantly. Jazz forced herself to take a steady breath, as he repeated the nod toward her free hand.

She still had no idea how in Heaven’s name Vlad thought this was a good idea. She didn’t have an idea even when her trembling hand moved toward the crystal, the cold licking her hands with a temperature too warm to be considered natural ice. Nor did she have a clue to his thought process when she looked back at Vlad in a small panic only to receive a small nod and a steady gaze in return.

Jazz was completely blind to what was about to occur, may it be the key to their sanction or demise. However, she tore her gaze away from Vlad and back to the ice, and in a fit in what she would later put down as pure Fenton rashness, she suddenly jerked her hand down, practically smashing the appendage into the blue-green crystal.

And with her forceful push, the ice cracked.

Small cracks, some part of Jazz’s mind that wasn’t blank in shock noted. They fissured out in thousands of tiny lightning-like patterns away from her fingers, extending less than an inch away from the digits.  She wasn’t really thinking about the “how” or logistics of what was happening. Though later her mind would no doubt question how a human like herself would be able to break the barrier when Vlad was trapped like a rat.

Her only thought at the moment was _No. Freaking. Way._

Jazz’s head whipped back to Vlad. He was smirking at her hand and the little cracks in the crystal with the triumph of a dictator succeeding to take over the world. As if sensing her gaze, Vlad glanced up at her, a quirking brow added to his expression. His blue skin devilish in the darkened shadows of the evening light.

“Well?” He drawled.

Jazz looked down numbly at her hand and pulled it off the ice, her fingers leaving the crystal so easily that it was hard to comprehend how Vlad could be stuck in the first place. She flipped her hand back and forth, seeing no damage to the skin before looking back at the barrier, her own small smirk reaching her face on its own accord.

Well, indeed.

The psychiatrist knew what she had to do. Looking now, the cold didn’t seem as intimidating as before, just another obstacle in the way of finding Danny. In a strange sense of calm that didn’t exist minutes before, Jazz once more pressed her hand to the ice, though this time not so forcefully.

Jazz watched the swirling energy in the ice in fascination. The icy blue torrential waves started to slow down, their crashing sluggishly turning into small swirls, the hypnotizing quality returning with the slower movement. The ecto-energy reacted as well. For a moment, it froze within the crystal, only zapping slightly in response. Then almost reluctantly, the green started to slither back into a deeper portion on the crystal, falling into the endless blue depths and disappearing completely. Only the tendril trails on Vlad’s arm remained, even so, they were thinner and not quite as excited to swallow his arm.

Jazz’s smile grew, an odd excitement filling her. She pressed harder into the crystal, her grin growing with each crack creaking out from her hand, reaching slowly but surely towards Vlad. The blue energy rippled beneath her finger tips, the green zipping up to nip at her skin.

The energy started to increase in speed again as Jazz pressed. With no sense of gravity at the moment, Jazz could only rely on the strength in her arms. The process was mind-numbingly slow and tense at the same time, the duo both silently willing the cracks to spread faster and deeper, so they could finally escape this disaster of a rescue.

And finally, the cracks reached Vlad’s arms.

As soon as they reached the edge where skin and ice met, a giant hiss of blue smoke erupted from the opening. Even though the smoke blocked their vision and dulled their hearing, Jazz could still distinctly hear the painfully dry hacking coming from Vlad. The cool smoke around her stomach held her tighter, making it harder to breathe, as it curled around her possessively. In contrast, the green smoke merely zipped casually up and down her arms, hopping encouragingly on her fingertips.

Jazz shifted herself in the air so she could press her weight on her hand. The cracks splinted deeper, this time hissing out blue and green smoke and icy, bitter winds, making her teeth chatter uncontrollably once more. She could be slow and gentle by only slight increases in pressure, sure, but there were times and places to take things slowly to reduce the sudden pain, but like taking off bandage, this was not one of those times.

A sudden plan occurred to her, “V-v-v-v-v-v-vlad st-t-t-t-tart p-p-p-p-ul-l-l-l-l-ling,” She said above the loud winds, teeth chattering annoyingly.

Jazz didn’t wait for him to respond, not that she could see him even if she did. She twisted back in the air, holding her fist behind her. Then, with all the strength she could muster, she drove her fist straight into the center of the cracking crystal.

A flare of pain shot through her hand and rippled shockwaves up her arm. She bit her lip to keep from crying out, even as a rush of roaring smoke surrounded her. Whether the smoke meant the comfort, she couldn’t know. All she could feel was the numbing wind biting and freezing her body and hear Vlad’s shouts of pain as the smoke undoubtedly assaulted him even further.

However, above the roar of smoke and wind and Vlad’s cries, a sudden pop suddenly burst through the air.  With it, the two flew backward in the air. The smoke that had been around her failed to hold on, as the trails uncurled form her body. The blue smoke was more reluctant than the green, its cool arms practically clawing at her, as they flew away.

They drifted slowly to a stop at healthy distance away from the ice. However, they were still close enough to see the ecto-energy and web-like ice strands already starting to cover up the hole where Vlad’s arm used to be.

Where his arm used to be…

Jazz blinked at the sudden realization, her head whipping to Vlad’s now free arm. She stared at his hand with wide eyes and a small relieved smile.

They were free.

“Vlad…”  She breathed. Jazz looked back at the colossal barrier with a numb sort of satisfaction. Was Vlad really just stuck in that? Did she really help him get out of that?

Another thought suddenly shot through her, making her mouth dry. She stared at the whirling blue energy and smoky leftovers left by their escape. Jazz couldn’t help but let her eyes trail the near twenty floors plus of the ice covered. They had only crossed the surface of the barrier, let alone the thicker, probably more dangerous interior…

How could they get Danny out of there?

For once, Jazz couldn’t find another thought to distract her mind. The coils tightened within her once more, and she there was nothing in her to stop them.

“Go,” Vlad raspy voice suddenly pulled her out of her thoughts. She turned to him, only to have her eyes widen at the small green welts that decorated his blue face, the welts all over his arms, his entire body really. The smoke had really done a number on him…

Once she acknowledged him, Vlad wasted little time getting out of there. Suddenly he pulled Jazz closer, holding their hands tighter, and before she could even say a word, they started flying away from the barrier, away from Danny, away from Arkham.

However, Jazz wouldn’t have protested even if she could.

They swept above the chaos in a much more detached way. The way the people scrambled below her didn’t seem nearly as important, as the bitter cold that still felt like it was nipping at her, even as Vlad’s abilities began to warm her again. Their problems seemed so much less than the horrid implications of the barrier.

Over Arkham’s gates and over the crowds below, they flew in a clumsy haste, Vlad’s flight rickety from the abuse on his powers. As they neared the outer edge of the city, Jazz couldn’t help but turn her head around and stare at the retreating figure of Arkham, glowing blue ice encasement and all. A small shiver went down her spine. The blue crystal seemed impenetrable, glowing ominously, warningly against intruders and allies alike. It mocked them and their failure, as the ice grew stronger than ever before.

Jazz shut her eyes to the icy building (though her mind displayed the image perfectly) and turned her head away.

So no, she did not argue against retreating for the moment, as they neared an empty alleyway, away from original goal, away from _Danny_. She didn’t argue because she had no way to, no reason to not rest and wait for a better plan. They had _failed_ and nearly died because of it, and it was only natural that they use their previous failure to plan success.

Even so, logic and reasoning that _this was for the best_ did not stop her heart from clenching at the thought that they were leaving her little brother in that cage of ice all alone, all alone within his mind, within a cage of his own creation.

To think, that they were supposed to be a rescue team when they could barely stop a little bit of ice.


	6. Danny Fenton: The Fixation part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which dreams are no fun when they're actually nightmares.

**[CoaSP]**

_Unfortunately, in the excitement of the day and the exhaustion of the afternoon, he had forgotten about a very important part of his routine, a part that would lead to a torrent of ice unconsciously creeping from his ice core, powerful enough to break the eight inhibitors and cause chaos around Gotham. It would seal his inevitable fate, leading to the chain of events that would change everything, may it be for better or for worse._

_Yes, in his need for rest, he had forgotten his medicine._

**[CoaSP]**

" _Danny_ ~…" A horribly familiar sing song whisper drifted across his consciousness. That voice, that _bitch_ of a woman that haunted him more than any other person in the world ever could.

He was on the floor, face down, cool white tile pressing harshly against his face. His legs felt stiff, and they ached from lack of use. One leg bent awkwardly, so that it almost touched his ribs, and the other stretched across the floor, facing away from him. He felt one of his hands near him, the fingers pressed lightly against his face and contrasting harshly to how his palm was planted on the floor. His other arm was stiff as a board against his side, muscles locked and tense.

The position was, understandably, uncomfortable.

Danny had no intention to get up from the floor, however. Even if itwas for only a dream version of the  **B**  (because this had to be a freaking dream, that bitch was dead!), he would never follow her orders again. EVER.

"Oh, I know you can hear me," The feminine voice resounded, sounding mildly disappointed, "Your collar tells me when you're awake, you know, so you might as well get up. You know what happens if you don't…" Her voice may have trailed off, but the threat in her tone was all too clear.

He froze and mentally cursed when he recognized the miniature needles jutting into his neck, an entirely different feeling from the warm pulsing of Arkham's inhibitors. He had the damn collar again. He was their little pet again. Their play toy thatthey could pull around on a leash like the good attack dog he was…

And there was nothing he could do about it.

…Fuck this dream. Just fuck this dream to hell and back until it felt the searing flames of the Ghost Zone's Volcanic Valleys between each metaphorical breath of its existence.

With a grimace, he slowly sat up from the floor, trying to ignore his protesting limbs screaming with flares of pain. Eventually, he managed to sit up crossed legged, and as he sat there in this illusion world, he turned his chin up with the last smidges of pride that he could muster. He didn't open his eyes either. Instead he simply sat there, blinded in the darkness, as he fought against the  **B**  in his own small ways.

It might have been stupid to agitate the thing that could make his life a certain living (or at least dreaming) hell. However, with his limited control over his life, Danny didn't want to make it too easy for the white cloaked witch to become his jailer once more.

Though he would admit that he was fighting a losing battle and was merely staving off the inevitable.

"Now was that so bad?" Silence was her only answer. He heard her make a tsking noise, each click of her tongue making him increasingly tense, "Now this just won't do. Come on and open your eyes. You  _will_  want to see this, I promise," He could practically see her trademark shark-like smile, as she finished in that sickly sweet tone of hers.

He paused momentarily, still resisting as much as he could, give her less satisfaction. Don't let her control his life again and again.  **Don't give up, Danny!**   **We love you**. It was only a dream. It wasn't real. She wasn't real. She was dead. Long dead, long gone from his life. She couldn't hurt him anymore.

_Keep telling yourself that._

Danny screamed as a flash of searing electrical pain suddenly rushed through him. He could practically feel every one of his cells relive the accident, as each spark tried to burn him from the inside out. It felt like his body was destroying and rebuilding itself over and over, as it tried to tear apart and keep together at the same time.

Electrocution was always the worst form of (physical) torture for him, not even a scalpel could remotely compare. When the GIW found out, they used his weakness to their full advantage, shocking him when he wasn't doing his best, wasn't being obedient, wasn't theirs to control.  **They can't control you! Fight them!**

A shock collar for their insolent little pup.

Finally, after an eternity of pain, the shocks died down, leaving him exhausted and breathless. He gasped, greedily sucking air like a nearly drowned man after a raging hurricane. Danny shivered, and, while breathing heavily and eyes clenching, he tucked his knees to his chest, biting his lip to keep from cursing obscenities at the white cloaked witch. Not that she didn't deserve it, he just didn't want to give her the satisfact-

Danny held himself tighter. Fine, it was a fucking lie. Every time he would curse at the woman, it would only lead to more pain, and, damn it, his pain tolerance had gone down after two torture-free years. Give him a break for not wanting to be electrocuted again.

"Now would you please look up? We don't have all day, you know," She sounded annoyed, and from what he learned, more prone to pressing that little button of pain that activated the collar. Danny didn't want to give himself up to her, not again, but…

…He gritted his teeth but did as he was told, hating himself and that creature that barely passed as a human being more with every passing second.

With shaking arms, Danny started pushing himself up. He collapsed once or twice in the process, but eventually he managed to sit crossed legged on the floor, his hands finding their place behind him to keep him from falling again.

As he sat in the silence, Danny hesitated again, an inner part of him that still rebelling at the idea that he was the  **B** 's toy again. But even as he waited, arms straining and heart pulsing, he knew he was fighting against the instinctual need to stay safe from danger, or in this case from electrocution… well, relatively safe considering his situation. He was torn between fighting against the white witch's commands and staying away from more pain. Although considering what these types of dreams were usually like, Danny was in for more than just physical pain.

He mentally cringed at the thought.

"Good boy," The  **B**  practically purred, snapping him out of his thoughts, "Now open those dazzling blue eyes of yours," Danny bit his tongue to keep from screaming out against her. Whenever he heard her voice, it felt like a boiling ball of pure anger decided to attach itself to his core. It made his innards twist, lashing out in cold vengeful spurts at each word the agent uttered.

He had to control this feeling though. Dream or not, he didn't know whether his already dwindling sanity could survive another electrocution session.

With a small stuttering sigh, he slowly opened his crusty eyes, only to narrow them at the bright light of the room. Wait no, not the room. Only where he was sitting. A giant spotlight was shining from who-knew-how-high above him, blinding him to everything else. In fact, he couldn't see anything beyond what was in the tiny little circle of light, making everything around him look like a shadowy, black mess.

Danny didn't know what the  **B** wanted him to see, and that fact more than disturbed him.

"Now that you're finally ready, let's get started, shall we?" Her voice echoed in the endless abyss, being everywhere yet nowhere at once.

Now, now, now, now, now. Her entire vocabulary seemed to revolve around that one little word that set his teeth on edge, especially with the way the  **B**  said it. Every time it sounded like she would bite off the next person's head with that cat-like purr tone of hers. Not to mention, Danny had spent enough time with her to know that when she drawled the word out that she was really pissed off. That word, that tone, that woman, reminded him of  _everything that happened to him at once._

And, of course, any memories with the  **B** were anything but good.

"Pay attention, Danny. You'll want to see this," He was instantly alert, tense, and prepared for action. Whatever she had planned…

There was a snap of fingers, and Danny tensed further in anticipation. Nothing happened at first. The only noise was his own rapid heartbeat and the little static sounds from the spotlight. But the  **B**  has a thing for dramatics (much like a certain Fruitloop that he knew and disliked), and she had a tendency to leave him hanging in order to get a greater reaction out of him.

True to his thoughts, he started to hear another sound, an odd rattling that sounded suspiciously like chains. Each click had him tensing again. He looked up with narrowed eyes, trying to find the source of the noise, but it was undefinable.

Danny uncrossed his legs and prepared himself to get up, eying the inky blackness for any signs of movement. Placing his hands in front of him for leverage, he tucked his knees in and jumped up in one movement, not once looking away from the outside world.

He stood in a battle trance. Knees bent, arms close to his body, and eyes, his eyes, darting everywhere, as he circled continuously, not caring about his aching limbs or his mind's insistence that this was a dream.

Because even if this was a dream (which is was because the  **B**  was dead!), this was his reality for the time being, and he would treat it as such. Right at that moment, his danger senses were on overdrive, telling him to attack at the nearest sight of hostilities.

After what seemed like forever, he could finally make out some movement above in the distance. White lighting fell from the sky, the sound of chains clattering obnoxiously against his super hearing. Danny stopped his circling, watching as the light got closer to the ground, waiting for the moment it would strike back against him.

At least, he did until he realized that the whiteness was in fact numbers. In a similar type of lighting and style that high schools used for their scoreboards, the numbers read 6:00.  

Six AM? PM? Minutes? Hours? Seconds? What...?

The pushed the thoughts of the numbers out of his head. If the  **B**  wanted him to know, then he would eventually find out. Until then, just thinking about it would make his brain go in circles. 

As the board got closer to the ground, it started moving slower. It shuddered with every tick of the metal, each rattle becoming louder and louder, pounding into his ears. It was like an old clock that was winding down and dying from old age, the inner workings of the metal rusting enough to slow down time. It set him on edge **,**  especially since every once in a while, the board would jump a few clicks and then stop before resuming its inconsistent pace down.

With one, two, three more clicks, the board finally stopped, ending its journey with a loud thunk. At the same moment, six lights suddenly flickered on, and he heard the loud, distinctive sounds of spotlights clanking on with a deep clatter.

His eyes narrowed again. The six spotlights were as white as the one on the board, three lights on side, and three shining on the other. However, at the moment, everything was blurry, the huddled figures in the tiny little circles of light, undefinable as the blackness around him.

Danny blinked again, narrowing his eyes. The figures… they were so familiar…

"Oh really Danny. I would have thought you'd have figured it out by now. Pity. Only two years away from me and your skills are already degrading. We'll just have to fix that, won't we?"

Before Danny could react, the figures suddenly became clear. It was as if someone pulled off a sheet, the figures suddenly horrifyingly revealed like a trick on Halloween.

From left to right, the blind folded **,**  tied up figures, illusions, fucking  _reminders_ of his  _failures_  taunted at him. Valerie, Tucker, Dad, Mom, Sam, and finally (he felt his stomach drop as the temperature in the room seemed to freeze)… Jazz.

  1.  The  **B** _dared_  to touch her.



Every single one of them was bound in the same way. White blindfolds were tied on too tight around their eyes. Their hands were bound behind them in the same pure white cottony looking material, the material innocently deceiving, as deceiving as the reassurance of the government name on the GIW brand of enforcement.

Other than binding there were no signs of harm from anyone. Their clothes were just as neat or fudge stained as he remembered them. Tucker in his red cap (glasses lost somewhere in this illusion world), Sam with her Goth attire and combat boots, Valerie in his yellow sweater and hand band, his mom and dad in their respective jumpsuits. In fact, if it wasn't for their binding, their almost lifeless stillness, as they sat on the ground on their knees, backs straight, staring accusingly at him, Danny would have thought they were okay.

Except for Jazz.

 _Jazz_  showed many signs of struggle. Too many signs of struggle. Unlike the others, her clothing caught up to current history. Yes, she was wearing navy scrubs, and of course, her shoulder length hair was still the orangey fiery color, but that was all the normalcy her looks had.

There were long scratch marks, purpling bruises, and dark brown dirt marks riddled all over her body. Her face looked visibly banged up, with a rainbow color of yellow, brown, and dark purple bruises splotching her face like some obscure modern art. Jazz's hands were the worst though. Her hands were caked with mud and grime and general black grease like she had been trudging through the end of the world and back just to escape a wild beast hunting for her life. Her fiery hair was furious, the strands were free and entirely out of the usual neat pony tail. There were tangled knots and dirt clumps hanging in wet clumped together masses. Even now at Arkham, Jazz would usually go into a tizzy if there was even a speck of something gross in her hair, and now this?

It was wrong, so wrong, to see Jazz's stillness, the bruises and broken savageness that seemed to cling to her form. Danny could even see the bits of a shiner creeping out from under the blindfold, telling him of all the unseen injuries that were probably just waiting underneath the ragged clothing and deep layers of skin.

Something broke. Maybe it was him, he didn't know what it was exactly, but it might have been his heart because his mind was gone a long time ago. In the back of his mind, the part of it that somehow remained intact, some part of him rattled a mantra of insanity that struggled to make sense in his detached state.

That this was a dream, that Jazz was okay, that none of the others were alive, so Jazz was probably okay in real life. Don't worry too much, just play along. Maybe, probably **,**  everything's okay, or as okay, as it's going to get.

Key words probably and maybe. The others could just be an illusion created to put on a show, to put him into some false sense of security, to make him think they were all in front of him, or not in front of him. His mind was simply playing tricks on him again… maybe. He could be fucking himself over again, and this was just a way to confuse his ever mushed psyche.

But the idea was still there. All the dead faces of his loved up were lined in front of him, all blinded and locked away in some light he could never know. It would be so simple to just walk over there to them and join them…

_BUT JAZZ._

That little part of him shouted with all it's might to make him see the truth and not step out of his little spotlight to go join them.

Jazz was still alive in real life. His mind was telling him that she,  _she_ , could join them too. Bound and dragged away by cold hands of indifference, used as a tool against his guarded heart until she too was gone, gone,  _gone_  again…

Six figures all bound and blindfolded, blinded by the shining white light shimmering above in a cage of eternity. All of his heart locked away and gone. In this dream, it was a sign that Danny was simply a bystander in his own misery, that nothing **,**  no matter how much he tried to protect it would ever be safe from harm.

Six figures of his heart, shattered bound and broken. As broken as his mind, as broken as his soul, all six in front of him to see.

And all he could do was stare.

"Now, Danny," That smirk flashed in his mind, "Aren't you glad to see them?"

_No sign of movement from the figures. No sign that he wasn't just staring at Jazz's flaming hair, disheveled from the usual perfect way she prepped it._

The  **B**  took his silence in stride, seemingly not bothered by the one-sided conversation, "Well, I am at the very least," She continued, "Do you know why?"

_No. No. No. No. NO! He didn't care. All he wanted to know was why the room felt so cold and why no one moved and why he couldn't get out of the light to join his heart and why… why… why…?_

"Because you care for them, and I care what you care about. Not in sentimentality, of course."

_Of course, because he was just a tool in her little game, and, in the end, as disposable, as he was valuable._

"But truly, it's because I like to know what makes you tick..."

_Because he was…_

"An unusual creature, something…"

_That the world should never know…_

"Something strange, something fantastic," There was a pause before she continued, her tone a bit less excited and much more devilish. He swore sometimes her eyes reflected the fires of hell because he could practically see the flames in his mind, trying to grip at him and suck every bit of happiness he could ever have out of him and leave him with only his sins to brew in.

… Or maybe that was the biting cold that was crawling up his back, giggling at his predicament, whispering his wrongs and what could have been and how much of a failure he was, a disappointment of a human being.

Either way, shivers wracked through his form.

There was a trembling in the darkness when she spoke again, "But don't get me wrong. I like strange things because…"

_In order to understand this world, you must understand the strange…_

"And in order to understand peculiar things like yourself…"

_We have to know these things like we know ourselves..._

"But as you know, not everyone likes strange things and so…"

_In order to satisfy those less willing to accept the imperfections of the world..._

"We can do one of three things to these unusual people. Either wechange them…"

_Break them…_

"Or in your case…. ** _control them."_**

Danny didn't even realize he had spoken with her until the words already rushed out of his mouth. Shamefully, he looked down at the floor, trying to hide from the ever knowing gaze of the  **B,** even if he knew it was a fruitless effort.

He could have sworn he heard her smirk being reflected in the darkness.

Silence rung through the abyss. Only thebreathing of six lives and the zaps of several lights filled the background. The heavy, cold (so damn cold) pressure of the room was suffocating him, yet also begging him to speak.

He knew what the  **B**  wanted. It was the same every time, every dream, every waking non-reality. But he wouldn't give it to her because if he gave in, even in his dream… everything, absolutely  _everything_ would have been for nothing.

And so he looked down at the blank white ground in silence, lips pressed, blue eyes staring unseeingly, and waited for the inevitable pain to begin anew. Cold chills slithered up his spine, however, and he was pretty sure he could feel the  **B** 's minor amusement at his façade of strength.

Finally, the  **B** 's voice popped up again, "So…" She drawled long and lazily, "Do you understand what I have to do?" She sounded annoyed again… no, exasperated, that was a better word, almost tired even, "We've been through this before. Why don't you just give in? I know strange and so I know you, and I know what you know, and you know that you can't take another loss. We go through this game again and again and for what? More pain for you?

"I don't particularly want you to be insane, and I doubt you like being unstable. So why continue fighting this? I can't say that I care for your overall well-being, but I do care if you're healthy or not. And this? This is bad for your psyche, you know. So won't you just give in? It would be better for both of us in the long run."

The light clinking of chains from the board was the only response.

There was a long pause from her. The blackness seemed to tremble a bit, thinking of the turn of events.

"So that's it?" She asked the inhuman silence, "Nothing more?"

The lights on the board buzzed in a low rumble.

Danny could feel every heart beat in that silence. Whether it was his own or his family's he wasn't sure. It seemed that everything, whether it be alive or inanimate, was tense, as the world waited for the  **B**  to finish, to reveal the final verdict in the halfa's continuous interrogation.

A long drawn out sigh suddenly filled the room _, sad,_   **exasperated,** "So, we're really going to have to do this the hard way," The words were said with a mumble, like she hadn't meant for him to hear, "Pity. I'd rather have you controlled than broken."

A snap of fingers once again filled the space, and when Danny looked up, the world seemed to shift around him. His family and friends slid from their position on the floor, the lights guiding the bound figures until they were encircled around him, the space directly in front of him clear to see the 6:00 in front him. But the board wasn't important, not when from left to right, Dad, Tucker, Valerie _, Jazz,_ Sam, Mom, were all lined up and mocking him in their helpless images. Worse, they were only a mere arm's length away. If he just reached out a little bit more…

He was brought back from his pitiful musings when a harsh laugh crashed through the room, "You are really something special, Danny, to hold out so long," The  **B** 's voice was filled with a disgusting amount of pride mixed with exasperation. All fake and pretty and just for show, like the rest of her perfect little government white-wash image, "I really hate having to torture you like this. Maybe you'll finally learn from  **the**  lesson this time. I hope you do."

The two both knew she was lying. The  **B**  enjoyed his pain just as much as his limited joy within his prison. She lusted after every little reaction she could get out of him, wanting to see his continuing struggle as much as his brokenness. In fact, she was probably half hoping he wouldn't stop fighting against her. To stop would mean the end of their little game, and that just wouldn't do.

Still, she had a goal for him, and as far as Danny could tell, absolute control was the endgame.

Not that she considered her little statements a lie. In her own twisted logic, words had no truth, only intention did. If they both knew something one of them said was a lie but knew of what they truly wanted, then they weren't lying since they both knew the absolute truth. To her, words were just pretty things that could be twisted. Intent, though… well, (he could see the full-toothed smile and the malicious eyes filled with horrifying glee) if one could see another's intentions then there were no lies between them… right?

Another snap, and one final light struck down from above, landing bloody red in front of him and connecting to Danny's circle in a small overlapping pink section. The white light of the board was blurred, but he could still distinctly see the numbers, even if they, too, were blurred pink.

Danny could see another figure in front of him, but again, for the life of him he couldn't make out his face. However, the dread of knowing what the  **B**  wanted him to do made bile rise to this throat and every fiber of his being fill with hate towards her. The deadly cold seemed to grip him more with every passing second, wrapping around his heart and skin and his very soul.

"But, I won't count on it," She mused, exasperation completely gone with only excitement in its place, "In the end, I must say it's for the best because after all," There was a pause before she snapped her fingers once more, her dramatic nature putting on a show for the overly tense boy.

"What fun is a toy when you don't play with it?"


	7. Danny Fenton: The Fixation Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Vlad and Jazz argue and red is the color of many things, most of which not good.

**OoOoOoO**

_Even so, logic and reasoning that_ this was for the best _did not stop her heart from clenching at the thought that they were leaving her little brother in that cage of ice all alone, all alone within his mind, within a cage of his own creation._

_To think, that they were supposed to be a rescue team when they could barely stop a little bit of ice._

**OoOoOoO**

It was 7:12 pm in Gotham City. The summer sun, which stayed late in the early August days, had nearly set over the horizon. Almost every building was tinted in a deep red glow, as shadows of the coming night darkened the streets. However, despite the season, the infamous southern heat and humidity were nowhere to be found. Instead, a cool wind swept over the entire city, running up the spines of unknowing pedestrians and early-rising night crawlers alike. Gotham’s residents weren’t too worried, however, and many simply continued on with their tasks like nothing unusual was occurring. After all, the reason for the coolness wasn’t too difficult to find. 

One only had to look at the glowing blue insane asylum to understand the source of the unusual wind.

Gotham City, like any closely populated area, had many streets leading here and there, with pathways winding and crossing in confusing patterns that only the most traversed of residents could navigate. With the skyscrapers and compacted buildings, it was only natural that there were alleyways to accompany the empty spaces in between. Some alleyways, no one dared to tread, the spaces so grime and pest infested that only the most desperate of the homeless would go near. One of these little catacombs made perfect spots to set meetings between villains, but even so, only the least health conscious of these unsavory individuals would even consider little more than a brief exchange between partners before scurrying back to their lairs.

It was in one of these atrocious alleyways that two familiar faces sat, shell shocked and shivering. It was a testament to their exhaustion to how they ignored the squeaking of rats curiously poking their noses out to see them, the stench of trash piles that had marinated too many days in the sun, and the thick layer of grime that covered every surface. The place, however inconvenient sanitary-wise, was close enough to Arkham that their trek back wouldn’t take too long once they felt ready to move once more.

If only they would move.

It had been nearly a half an hour since they first landed, and other than Jazz relenting to her exhaustion and finally collapsing on the ground, the two hadn’t moved. In fact, neither had spoken a word to one another.

Vlad sat on the left side of the wall, taking long deep breaths, as he tried not to concentrate on the painful welts that dotted his skins. As soon as he had landed, the halfa had immediately transformed into his human form and collapsed on the in a panting, hissing mess, as the clothing on skin contact infuriated his wounds. At one point during this time, he had managed to peel off his jacket and roll up the sleeves of his white dress shirt, revealing the blotchy red welts that flared angrily on his otherwise pasty skin. Unlike the jacketless Jazz, who was not appreciating the wind, for Vlad, the cold air was a blessing in disguise. It cooled his overheated skin and let the welts slowly heal.

Over time, the welts on his face had mostly died down, becoming mere blemishes that would heal by the end of the day. However, his injured arm was still a bloody red color, the same color, as the dying sun and Vlad’s loosened tie. The shadows starting to cling to them combined with the red glow made his otherwise pale skin look sickly in comparison, dead where the shadows clung and devilish where the sun refused to let go.

In comparison to Vlad, Jazz wasn’t in that great of disparity, at least physically. She sat on the opposite wall, knees tucked in, and arms holding them as close to her body as possible. Red hair frizzed all around her in a fiery storm around her face. Her exhaustion was obvious, as the young woman buried her face into her knees. Only the tips of her eyebrows visible over the black cloth of her ruined slacks.

While her physical form was somewhat presentable, mentally, Jazz wasn’t nearly as composed. Try as she might, her mind felt… blank. No, that was wrong. It was over stimulated. A torrent of emotions flowed through her, relief, anger, happiness, despair, and they all meshed in a confusing collage of just _feelings_ that she couldn’t decipher. They all combined and canceled out any thoughts she tried to have, in one frustrating cycle of emotional distress.

The duo was less than presentable, to say the least.

However, time past and the two were able to let themselves relax. Vlad was able to inspect his wounds without feeling entirely disgusted with himself. Jazz’s emotional disparity slowly calmed, and the torrent of emotions gave way to the reality of the situation.

It was with these new thoughts that she finally broke the silence.

“Vlad,” Jazz, mumbled into her slacks. He acknowledged her with a small hum, “What are we doing?”

He didn’t answer for a moment. Jazz supposed she could have looked up at him, but the pounding headache in her ears, whether it be from the stench or other things she dared not think too much about, made moving nearly impossible without a fresh sear of pain.

Finally, he answered softly, too evenly, “I suppose you can say we are recovering.”

“For this long?”

Vlad didn’t seem to have words for that.

Jazz shook her head, swallowing down the irrational hysteria trying to build up in her throat. When she looked up, the shrink couldn’t help but narrow her eyes at the injured halfa, as he sat there in the much, looking in the wayward darkness with a small frown. Sitting here wouldn’t help them any, and Arkham nor Danny would last any longer at this rate.

So…

“What are we supposed to do?” Jazz hated how pleading her voice sounded.  

The halfa’s gaze flickered towards her, his frown transforming into a dark sneer, “And you suppose that I have all the answers.”

“I suppose that you have an idea of what the hell happened up there,” She countered.

“Such language,” Vlad smirked dryly, eyes flashing with amusement in such a way that made Jazz want to strangle him with his tie. She narrowed her eyes, her usual passive face contorting with frustration.

“Do you think this is a joke?” White, hot anger pulsed through her at Vlad’s continued smirk.

“I don’t know what you are talking about.”

“I think you do.”

He arched an eyebrow, amused by the girl’s annoyance, “Really? And what do you mean?”

“Stop it.”

“Stop what? Because Jasmine you really have to be more specific if you want something from me.”

Jazz sneered, “Excuse me? What’s that supposed to mean?”

He chuckled, enjoying their little game of back and forth, “You tell me, dear girl, since you seem to have all the answers.”

“I said stop it, Vlad!” Her face was gorwing a delightful shade of pink, though to his disappointment, she seemed determined to keep her face looking at the ground. He wondered absently how close she was to drawing blood with those sharp looking nails of hers.

He tsked at her, smiling lazily, “Temper, temper Jasmine. You wouldn’t want to pop a blo-“

“I SAID STOP RIGHT NOW! For once, can you not be such a goddamn fruit loop and take me seriously?!” Her shout echoed throughout the alleyway, sending a new wave of cockroaches and rats out of their hiding places. For once, the billionaire seemed shocked, any words lost at Jazz’s distraught face and eyes shining with unshed, frustrated tears.

Vlad sat back, swallowing heavily. He would have to admit, he did not expect this outcome.

Not that it was too difficult to wonder why.

Sometimes, Vlad mused, it was hard to remember that Jasmine wasn’t untouchable, emotional wise. The shrink was usually a stronghold when it came to personal stability, needing to be in the face of so many irrationalities in her life. However, while the girl was a strong presence, like any sentient being, there were cracks in her supposed impenetrable emotional psyche. Daniel was one such crack…Even if he was one of the reasons the woman was able to keep herself together in the first place.

The image of little Danielle bouncing happily around the mansion came unbidden through his mind.

Jazz clenched her hand into fists, teeth gritting together in a way that had to hurt, “Enough with the stupid bantering,” She whispered, voice harsh. Steely teal eyes locked onto deep blue, “Right now Danny is still stuck in Arkham, suffering from his own perpetual nightmare, the criminals are about and about doing who knows what to Gotham, and you’re injured from the stupid ice barrier that, keep in mind, we don’t know how to get through. Is there any reason you’re acting like this, like I’m some _child_?” She spat these acidly, voice soft and seething, “Is there some grand scheme brewing in that narcissistic head of yours? Because I would love to hear it before Danny permanently injures himself.”

Her voiced echoed down the alleyway, as her tear glittering eyes made it harder than usual to be angry with her.

He painted on a smile, “I suppose you may call it a… coping mechanism, _dear Jasmine_.”

“We can cope later,” Her voice leaving no room for argument. He ignored her sniffing and the stray tear running down her face, choosing to instead focus on the intensity of her glare. It was the least he could do, “Saving Danny needs to be our first priority before Arkham is destroyed for good.”

He quirked an eyebrow, “And of Daniel’s wellbeing?”

“That goes without being said.”

Vlad hummed softly and looked to sky with a supposed air of indifference. After a distinctive (probably deliberate) pause, his lips quirked into a smirk, “Did it ever occur to you that my silence can be contributed to the fact that, truly, I have no idea what the barrier could be?”

“If you had no idea what it could be then you wouldn’t have insisted me putting my hand on the ice,” Jazz countered.

Vlad’s smirk grew, “I suppose not,” His gaze wandered back at Jazz. The amusement from his smirk did not translate to his eyes. They were grim, filled with a type of determination that could only come from experiencing too much, “I have my theories, but I don’t think you will like my conclusion.”

“I have a hunch it involves me and how the barrier accepted me as a friendly.”

The halfa’s smirk blurred into an actual smile, “In the barest of explanations, yes.”

Her face scrunched up, “This isn’t just a ghost versus human thing, is it?”

“If it was, the barrier would have been breached a long time ago.”

Jazz sighed and rubbed her face, fully expecting that answer but not really wanting to hear it. She sighed again, and looked back to Vlad, who, to her surprise, despite his despaired appearance, looked professional, put together, “What’s your full conclusion?”

“My conclusion? Conclusion implies I have a solution. I do, however, have a hypothesis,” At her ‘go on’ gesture and mildly irritated look, he adjusted himself on the brick wall and put on his best teacher, ‘I know better than thou’ expression, “While I have never seen anything like this before,” He smirked in a way she thought said, ‘see even I can accept my limitations.’ Jazz quirked an eyebrow at his unvoiced comment, “However, even so, I do have a solution. Based on your intentions and the ecto-smoke’s reaction towards you, Daniel will unconsciously open the doors if you were to approach them. A ghost’s core is essentially the equivalent of their soul, the accumulation of their being, if you will.

“For the core energy and ecto- energy to react to positively towards you means of great trust. If anyone were to be able to breach the barrier without causing massive amount of destruction, it would be you.”

Jazz swallowed, considering the information. Vlad could see the connections being made in her mind, creating new solutions, slashing them out, and finally seeing the best possible outcome in this train wreck of a situation. She nodded to herself, and her eyes focused once more on him, “And if you’re wrong?”

“Do we have any other option?”

“Not particularly, no, but-”

“-Then we must make due.”

A thoughtful silence crept in. Jazz glared but found herself once more was considering any other possible plan, anything that was more secure, more reliable. Vlad on the other hand, was simply waiting for the young woman to find herself once more. He leaned back, closing his eyes and wiling with his slowly growing energy for his arm to heal. There was still pain, that, there was no doubt, but he wasn’t as undependable anymore. Still, it would take time to be back to be back to tip-top shape.

Hopefully they wouldn’t to go to such extremes.

“Batman’s here,” Jazz suddenly commented.

The halfa quirked an eyebrow, “Oh? The Dark Knight decided to join the party?” Vlad sounded intrigued, as if he was given a puzzle to solve rather than yet another obstacle to face, “When did you see him?”

She shrugged, “When we first flew in. Before you got stuck in the ice.”

“This makes things a bit more complicated.”

Maybe it was the aftermath of hysteria or maybe it was the actual perspective of an idea of where to go. Whatever it was, Jazz could help but smile, as she asked, “Nothing we can’t handle, right?”

“Oh, dear Jasmine,” Vlad eyes flashing, smirk on his face once more, “did you really need to ask that question?”

She guessed not, but Vlad’s smirk had somehow became reassuring in the last few hours, and seeing it somehow made the entire experience a bit more bearable.  Adjusting herself, she sat straight up, and clapped her hands together, intertwining them, “Okay,” The shrink couldn’t help her higher spirits from seeping through, “let’s make a plan.”

[CoaSP]

**OoOoOoO**

_"What fun is a toy when you don't play with it?"_

**OoOoOoO**

“Last chance, Danny,” Viper tones and smirking fangs threw themselves to the forefront of the halfa’s mind, “Obey or suffer the consequences.”

The lights flickered brightly over the six figures.

Danny bit his lip, closing his eyes, even as the light made even the area under his eyelids too bright. Everything too exposed like he was an ant being judged by a giant.

Even so, he refused to speak. Not because he didn’t want to because he rather suffer for himself. No, Danny couldn’t speak because even if these bound shadows looked like his loved ones, he knew the truth. Shadows couldn’t replicate the real things, and he _knew_ without a doubt that they wouldn’t want him to be a puppet.

Following their wishes would be the least he could do.

A small chuckle echoed around him, “Alright, if you’re so sure of your,” she paused, “…self-empowered mindset. Then we’ll play this game,” A snap cracked, making the lights blinding, the red in front of him growing into a nauseating bloody color. He hissed under his breath, as his vision blotted, “But Danny, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Danny blinked blearily, the world dulling back into a manageable light. The white spotlights still struck down on his family and friends, still there, still safe, not gone again. They were bound, as they always were.

The red spotlight, though. The scrutinized figure had him frozen on the ground, gaping stupidly. Red, both from light, and from something he couldn’t really decipher filled his vision, making his blood boil. Though where his anger was directed, he couldn’t fathom. Danny didn’t know if it even mattered.

“Is this some kind of _joke_?” He hissed at the detached voice.

“Am I the joking type, Danny? Unless you would like me to joke,” The voice considered, its sound slipping into a purr, “You _know_ how well my pranks go.”

Danny flinched, the voice laughed, and throughout their interaction, the young man continued to stare at the disgustingly familiar figure in front of him.

Usually, in this scenario, the person was an ambiguous face. Blurred and detached. Masked or blindfolded. Just a person to represent the many faces of humanity Even if he did recognize them, he usually had not personal connection to the figures. A dictator. A mob boss. A random robber he saw on Arkham’s flickering TV once. No one he could possibly have known in real life.

“ _Now_ , you know the rules. We’ve played this game enough, but since it’s been awhile. I think a refresher is in store, no?”

The halfa’s fingers twitched, mouth turning into a sneer.

The voice huffed, “I will take your lack of answer, as a need to be reminded of your place,” She said, sounding distinctly peeved, “See the timer? For every minute that passes, a white light shatters, until you will do I have told.”

“I hope you realize the consequences of your actions because in one minute, if Vladimir Masters isn’t dead, everyone you have ever loved will be gone. Are we clear?”

No, it usually wasn’t this personal, but considering his day, Danny could be surprised.

Danny took a moment to eye Vlad. He was still the same old man he saw this morning. Gray hair, dark blue eyes, and pompous “I can feed a third world country with the money I spent on this” suit.

Yet, there was something distinctly wrong.

Unlike the others, he wasn’t gagged. In fact, he didn’t seem to be bound at all. He kneeled on the cold ground, hands crossed over his chest in a stiff, but obviously unrestrained way. It was odd, like he was a mummy waiting to be placed in a tomb. Other than a few ruffles in his suit, he seemed perfectly reasonable. Maybe a few hairs out a place, but perfectly board room presentable.

While the unnatural stiffness was odd, it wasn’t Danny looked into Vlad’s eyes for more than a quick glance that he saw the main differences.

They were dead. Unmoving, unblinking, and lacking that familiar malicious intelligence he had come to know from the man. A puppet, a zombie, not even trying to be the real thing.

Insignificant, even if the face of the man was anything but.

“Danny, are we _clear_?” The lights flashed violently around him, her voice echoing once more.

Danny clenched his eyes. The lights were messing with his head, causing a massive pressure to pulse angrily towards him, beating in rhythm with his heart. The cold suffocated him, going into his throat, lungs, and body and causing shivers to rip through him.

He hated Vlad. Danny hated the way the man looked at him, like a prize to be manipulated and morphed into whatever the old man so desired. He hated selfish the older man was, how he couldn’t see past his own desires for one god damn second to see how happy his mom was without his pompous ass. How manipulative, cruel, and all together vile to every person he met, even if he tried to show his own form of supposed ‘kindness’ when really it was an act in his little games. Vlad was a cold-hearted bastard, a mistake of a human being.

Yet, Danny couldn’t, wouldn’t kill him to save everyone.

It wasn’t an act of compassion because Vlad wasn’t one to deserve the young man’s kindness. It wasn’t some illogical bond between halfas that Vlad kept spouting on and on about. Nor was it was it even a way to let go of the villain’s past transgressions for some supposed redo, start over, or some other term that Danny wouldn’t even want to consider. 

It was for one reason, and one reason only that Danny didn’t immediately kill Vlad:

Being a tool for someone else’s use wouldn’t be what they would have wanted, no matter how tempting it was to kill the bastard to save the people he loved.

Danny snorted dryly, chuckling under his breath. The sound was broken, something from a mad man’s lungs. He stared up toward’s his own spotlight, smirking despite everything, “Fuck you,” Danny managed to croak.

The darkness rippled a bit. Whether it be from excitement or annoyance, Danny couldn’t be brother to tell.

The **B** clicked their tongue, “Cute,” The darkness tensed, “Six minutes. One minute per shatter.”

Danny eyed the timer hanging in the near distance, body tense. He couldn’t breathe. He didn’t mean, couldn’t want, he-

“Go.”

And numbers started counting down.


	8. Interlude: April's Fool

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An brief view of the past shows the B's way of showing punishment, as well as Danny's deterring mental state.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I had a brief scene that I only posted on FF.net that I wanted to post here. Hope you enjoy!
> 
>  
> 
> Warning: Scene contains graphic results of physical, mental, and emotional abuse.

**Unknown Location**  
GIW Laboratory   
Trial Room B-DP  
3 month(s), 19 day(s), 18 hour(s), and 43 minute(s) before GIW annihilation 

He laid on his side, face blank, as he tried to focus on healing himself rather than the pain pulsing throughout his body. He could hear his heartbeat in his ears, as his usual already too slow pulse stuttered slower than the ticks of a grandfather clock. His skin was made of bruises, and his veins were almost dried up wells. They hadn't bothered cleaning him up, knowing that **she** would rather let him suffer with a reminder of his misdeeds, so he coiuld  _think_ about what he had done.

The boy should have seen this coming. After all, he refused to use the Ghostly Wail for them. It seemed that his screams were a substitute wail for them. Not that it would subdue them for long. Tomorrow would be a day of learning, and a test if not passed, leading to more pain.

Black hair, rustled and singed, clumped into bloody, dirt-caked masses all around his head. The black clothing they gave him was riddled with gaping holes, drying red and green blood stains, and marks that cold only be large claws. He wore no shoes, but his feet looked like someone had attempted to make them look semi-presentable. Instead of being entirely caked in mud, only patches of dirt remained, leaving the boy with only scab-like patches of dirt left on his feet to scrap off later. The only clean thing on him was the pure white collar. The men dressed in white lab coats had shined and practically buffered the damn thing before throwing the boy back into his containment unit.

Despite being the only semi-familiar and non-Clorox clean smell in the room, he took little comfort in his mattress. The springs were worn, as they sprung harshly against his back whenever he tried to find a position that was remotely comfortable. Yet, he stayed laying there.

While there was little comfort, it was comfort nevertheless.

"So…" A surround sound speaker crackled to life around him, "how was your day?" The boy's eyes clenched shut at the predator-like vibe in the woman's voice.

Not even bothering to look up, the boy stared hazily at the wall, either too strong, too weak, or too broken for tears, "You told me today would be easy," He managed to croak. His throat sounded dry, as each syllable cracked with hoarse notes of exhaustion.

Seconds later he had to roll himself off the mattress, coughing blood onto the pristine white floor rather than the off-white mattress they had thrown in his cell. Biting anger chewed through his thoughts, _too weak, not enough, keep going, or else,_ but the near sickening submission had him nearly puking the little nutrients they pumped into him that day.

When he was done, and the voice still hadn't responded, the boy grimaced and repeated, voice low and on the brink of being broken beyond repair, "You said… you said I would get a day to decide to use my Wail…" He clenched his eyes shut again, "You nearly killed me instead…what's the point?"

The voice hummed, an amused hum like she knew something the boy didn't and was amused by his ignorance. She waited until he finished coughing again to speak, "Look up at the ceiling. I'm sure you're smart enough to understand, my little halfa."

Too exhausted to fight against her, he rolled back on his back and stared at the ceiling.

Staring back at him was a calendar, and the date echoed in his mind with a mocking smile that usually held so much happiness to him.

_April 1_ _st_ _._

"April Fools, Danny," She was smiling; he could just tell, "You did well today; you deserve a nice rest."

And the voice flickered off, leaving the boy alone to grieve in silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> So, originally for the dream sequence, it was only going to be a thing where Vlad was mentally insane and torturing Danny. I wrote a bit, didn't like, and I threw it out. However, I saved the document, and something else with it. 
> 
> The something? A lullaby. 
> 
> I showed the lullaby to a couple of friends on slack.com, and Polyrhyme (link to their profile: http://archiveofourown.org/users/polyrhyme/pseuds/polyrhyme) decided to sing it!
> 
> Here's a link to it on tumblr if you want to hear it! http://lunagalemaster.tumblr.com/post/148473613664/i-made-a-creepy-lullaby-in-vlads-point-of-view
> 
> Thanks again for reading! See you next time!


	9. Batman: The Judge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Jazz has a plan, Plasmius has a better one, the Warden is not in her happy place, Batman finally arrives, and everything is covered in ice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Look who's back. Back again. Luna's back. With CoaSP)  
> I have no excuses why this took so long. Just take it. Take the madness. 
> 
> I would like to thank the slack fam for helping me out with this! Their encouragement has been a blessing in keeping this alive. I would like to specifically thank chintastic and xycuro for helping me edit this, and listening to me vent my frustrations and blatherings about this chapter. You guys are the best!
> 
> Summary of events:
> 
> Danny, aka Spooks, is a resident of Arkham and has been for nearly a year with Jazz being his main psychologist/therapist. After his disppearance three years ago and then presumed death by the GIW a year after his disspearance, his status remained anonoymous by most people. While not perfect, Danny's status was stable and seemingly improving. 
> 
> Then, out of nowhere, Vlad Masters found and visited Spooks. After a distressing conversation with 'Spooks' and a compromise with Jazz, Vlad left the Asylum. Jazz tried to calm Danny down and to help him see the reality of the situtation and see Vlad might not be as bad as before, despite his actions that day.
> 
> Later that afternoon, Vlad visited Jazz in her apartment, who had taken the rest of the day off after she calmed down Danny. The two had a tense discussion, and after playing having a mind game battle in which the two tried to get as much information as they could while also trying to get the other to crack, the two reached a compromise to help Danny be as stable as possible in Arkham and slowly transition him into the real world again. However, just as they were making plans, Jazz got a call from the Warden telling her Danny had iced over the entreity of Arkham. 
> 
> The two quickly arrive, only to be shocked by Arkham's state. Using invisibility and intainbility, they fly to an outer wall near Danny's cell. Vlad tries to phase them through, only to get stuck by the ice trying to grab at him, green and blue smoke trying to attack him. Here they discover that the ice reacts favorably towards Jazz and they escape, Vlad sustaining injuries mostly on his arm. They take a moment to relax and regroup, before starting to plan their next attempt at getting into Arkham. 
> 
> Meanwhile, Danny is trapped in his own nightmare, starring the B, the GIW agent responsible for most of his torture. The longer the nightmare goes on, the colder it gets. Currently, there are six spotlights pouring down on his loved ones, including Valerie, Tucker, Sam, Maddie, Jack, and Jazz. One red spotlight in the center beating down on 'Vlad', and a timer on a scoreboard. Last time, Danny refused to do what the B wanted to do, and so the countdown started running down. 
> 
> (And with that, I hope you enjoy my dudes!)

It was too easy to get past the gates. In fact, if it wasn’t for the _way_ they got in, Jazz might have needed a little talk with the Warden about security standards.

Even so, when this was all set and done, Jazz would probably suggest ecto-detections devices around Arkham. Just in case.

“Thank you for your cooperation, Dr. Fenton. We’re sorry for the confusion. Please follow Officer Rogers so we can ensure your safety in these… undesirable conditions.” The officer that had been hounding her only minutes before was now courteous, if a bit robotic. He had no distinguishing features other than the grim look in his eyes. Even then, Jazz suspected that many of the officers had the same expression.

Jazz nodded respectfully. “Thank you, sir. I will do my best to help,” she said, biting her lip to keep from shivering from the biting wind but keeping her expression neutral otherwise. It was the best she could do considering her current irritation. The crowd behind her wailed, bemoaning their lack of freedom of press, some angry at why would this woman be a possible exception but not them?

She managed not to roll her eyes at their childishness and continued forward. The cold wind snapped around her, making goosebumps rise on her arms.

Jazz looked to the officer who was ready to escort her. He was about thirty with sandy blonde hair kept neat and out of the way. A badge on his chest and a decal on his arm indicated his higher authority.  However, it was his eyes that caused her irritation.

The man smiled softly, charmingly to those who didn’t know him well enough. His brown eyes, though, they danced with mischief and a smugness that made her want to punch him in the face.

And if Jazz wasn’t paying attention, she would have missed the heartbeat of a moment where his eyes glinted with an unnatural red shine.

“Come along, Dr. Fenton,” The ‘officer’ said with a smug smile, “You wouldn’t want to miss the party.”

Without waiting for her, he turned away and started up the hill to the asylum, the other officers nodding to him. He walked proudly, shoulders back, and stance strong; the gait intimidating as it was reassuring. The power he held was typical of a police officer, but because Jazz knew what she was looking for, she could see the arrogance flowing off of him with each step he took.

Jazz trotted forward, sighing as she went.

Vlad was such a pompous bastard.

She caught up to the overshadowed officer to match his steps. After checking to see if anyone was near enough to hear, she hissed to him, “This wasn’t a part of the plan.”

He didn’t look at her, but he responded all the same, “No, but this is a much better plan.”

“It was too risky. You could have been caught.”

Brown eyes finally glanced in her direction. “Oh? Riskier than hoping that someone would be really nice and just happen to let you into a high security prison just because you asked?” At her small flinch, he flashed a smirk and looked back ahead.

“You’re not entirely healed,” She said pointedly.

“Jasmine,” Jazz could hear the irritation creeping into his voice, “you’ve seen me overshadow an entire town with an army of duplicates. Taking over the body of one human is hardly a burden.”

“For all we knew, he could have been a meta,” she continued. They passed a group of curious inmates staring at them. Jazz repressed a shiver of disgust when one of the men gave a lecherous grin. She forced herself to focus entirely on the trail ahead and the man next to her, “You know, metas? The only humans with abilities _to keep you out_. Everything could have fallen apart because of you and your arrogance.”

“If I hadn’t done this, you would still be arguing with the dimwitted man at the entrance,” Vlad snapped back, “Besides, this man wasn’t one and had no such abilities and now we’re here, so be quiet before someone gets suspicious!”

Jazz pressed her lips, but didn’t comment otherwise.

She almost wished she did, if only to get rid of the slight bounce in Vlad’s steps.

It didn’t take long to get to the top of the hill. With Vlad overshadowing what seemed to be one of the head officers, everyone, or at least every policeman, moved out of their way quickly to let the duo through. Jazz, despite her earlier reluctance, could not deny the effectiveness of Vlad’s impromptu plan. Not that she would ever tell the man.

As the two neared Arkham’s inner gates, Jazz took note of her surroundings. Snow and ice clung to every surface it could find, clinging on the metal gates and blanketing the ground with, a now, trodden layer of snow. Snow drifted down oddly gently in the strong breeze. Small flakes stuck to the few officers running about. Jazz searched around and noted the Batmobile near the inner gate. Somehow the ice didn’t cling to the car, and out of everything here, it was the only thing that remained ice free.

Jazz shivered more than ever. She looked around, unable to find the one person they were looking for.

The halfa leaned towards her and whispered, “I thought you said the Warden would help us.”

Jazz shivered again and bit her lip. The wind was now eating at her, rippling through her hair, and making the hairs on her neck stand on end. She glanced towards Vlad.

“She should be here. I-”

“Fenton! There you are! You better have a good explanation on where the fuck you’ve been or so help me I’ll get Charlie to put your ass as Scarecrow’s therapist for the rest of your days!”

A shrill voice boomed across the snowy Arkham lot, startling the two. Both relief and anxiety filled Jazz at the sight.

If there was a possible way to feel both comforted and terrified by a person, Agatha Aeron, Warden of Arkham, was the woman who fit the bill.

She was a tall, willowy woman, with sharp angles and an even sharper tongue. As she stomped toward them, the snow underneath her military boots crunched loudly and puffs of powder flew into the air. Wearing her usual slacks, blouse (red today), and jacket combo, Warden Aeron trained her beady black eyes and deep scowl set on her face. Her burn scars on the right side of her face pulsed angrily, both from her obvious aggression and the suffocating cold. Two military men scurried behind her, faces trying and failing to be dispassionate as exhaustion held fast on their forms.

Jazz watched with great wariness. The woman’s fingers dug deeply into her palms. Her hands, covered in black leathery gloves, formed coal colored bricks.

Obvious signs of frustration. Exhaustion, of course - who wouldn’t be? - even a tiniest bit of desperation mixed in.

The Warden was not the best at dealing with stress, to say the least.

Jazz straightened up, “Hello, to you too, Warden,” she replied as smoothly as she could, “There was a complication, and I couldn’t get here quick enough.”

“Complication,” Warden Aeron huffed incredulously and shook her head. Jazz’s heart skipped a beat when the warden turned towards the possessed officer, “Thank you for bringing her here,” she said with a nod, “Now go back and protect the parameter. We don’t want any idiots getting in here.”

Despite its many questionable often illegible applications, Vlad’s ability to stay calm and charm others under pressure was exactly what they needed.

Plastering on his signature ‘I will do you no harm, you can trust me’ smile on the already innocent looking face, the possessed officer replied smoothly, “Of course, ma’am. Happy to be of help, and might I add, you look lovely in spite of the conditions.”

She looked him up and down, eyes darting from his toes to admittedly now almost creepily painted look on his face. The snarl on the Warden’s face grew. Jazz’s hands twitched.

The Warden scoffed. Her beady eyes drilled into Vlad, “Boy, I’m a least ten years too old for you. Stop with those bedroom eyes and charming looks and do your job.”

It felt like a sudden weight lifted from Jazz’s chest. She left out a quiet sigh of relief, while Vlad scrambled with this new information.

He nodded curtly, “Of course. My apologies. I will be on my way.”

As the Warden turned away from the possessed officer, Vlad shared a quick look with Jazz. His eyes looked determined. Then, after giving a curt nod, turned away from the two.

There was a small moment of silence between them. Jazz might have let it drag out longer for a more dramatic effect if it wasn’t for the bitter cold and Danny’s safety. Instead, as the Warden turned toward Jazz with a grumble, she crossed her arms and asked, “So…what do you think of him?” Pointedly nodding her head towards the possessed guard’s retreating back.

Warden Aeron snorted. “Confident, arrogant, and in need of a good slap on the back of the head,” she replied gruffly. She shook her head in dissatisfaction, glaring at the iced facility. “The boy needs to get his priorities straight; Stop charming with pretty smiles and start hauling ass.” She side eyed Jazz with a knowing, strangely protective look. “You deserve better.”

Jazz blinked and blinked again. Her mind backtracked and did a mental flip to align with the Warden’s line of thinking. She couldn’t possibly-

“What?” Jazz settled on asking.  

The Warden’s brow arched up. “That wasn’t the reason you asked? Shame, He might have a stick up his ass, but at least it’s a fine ass to stick one in. Your loss. Anyway,” She continued smoothly, lax expression turning into a slight glare, “You, _you,_ have horrible timing, Fenton. Where were you, and why did it take you so long to get here?”

Jazz mentally shook the image out of her head. After clearing her throat, she straightened her back, eying the Warden seriously, “I had business to attend to this afternoon, and…” she shrugged, “well, the police barriers didn’t help get me here any faster.”

The Warden scoffed, “Time your days off better. I’m not expecting you to be omniscient, but this is just ridiculous.”

"I’ll keep that in mind the next time there’s a major crisis.”

“You better.”

Jazz let a tiny small crawl on her face. Then a rush of wind caught her bareless arm’s attention, sending a shiver down her spine. Her smile fell, and her gaze turned to Arkham’s frozen state.

“Do you know what happened?” She asked quietly.

“Not exactly,” The Warden replied with an exaggerated sigh, “All we know is that there’s a shit ton of ice surrounding Spooks and no way to get in. Every time we try, one of my men get blown away half way across the hill. I think we’ve had more injuries trying to get in than from the actual ice itself. Though I can’t say the same for the building,” She grimaced, looking at Arkham with disdain, “Fuck, sometimes I wish I was born a meta. Maybe then I would’ve been able to do something when shit like this happens.”

Jazz laughed dryly, “Do you have a secret hero-complex I should be worrying about?”

The Warden snorted, “Like I’m the type to go running around in cosplay.”

“I don’t know,” she teased, “you may look good in spandex.”

“I’m choosing not to dignify that with an answer.”

Jazz shook her head. She wondered about the conversations the Warden and her had sometimes. “Jokes aside, does anyone have a clue what to do?”

“We thought you might be able to tell us that.”

Jazz’s heart skipped a beat at the voice suddenly behind them. Balling her hand in a fist, she turned, tense and ready to strike if necessary.

Her stance relaxed when she came face to face with Batman’s cowl. Even so, her stomach dropped, and she could practically feel her nerves rising up in her chest. It took everything she had not to tremble in Batman’s presence. She pressed her lips and bit her tongue to keep herself silent.  

This was not how she wanted to face Batman next. It was inevitable they would confront each other, of course. Jazz had hoped her plans would already be underway by now to hide any suspicion.

Danny’s chance of remaining unknown felt like it was slipping through her fingers.

The Warden turned to Batman, not even surprised at his sudden experience. “Oh, look the Caped Crusader himself is back,” She commented, sounding almost bored, “ Have fun scaring toddler-men?”

“It was informative,” he replied curtly. He swerved to face Jazz, who straightened up on instinct,  “Dr. Fenton.” He acknowledged.

“Hello, Batman.” Jazz was thankful her voice wasn’t as quiet as she thought it would be. She nodded, not even attempting a smile for him. He would know it was fake anyway. As the memories rushed to her mind, her voice softened slightly, a bit of the tenseness creeping out of her shoulders. “It’s been awhile.”

“Two years, “ he said simply. His voice hinted at a remorseful tone but didn’t quite get there. She absently wondered if he found the repeating circumstances as strange as she did. Ice then, and ice now, all related to Danny. Jazz just hoped she could keep him from connecting the dots on the relationship between the two incidents.

Before she could ponder further, Batman asked her sternly, “What is your opinion on the situation?”

Jazz frowned, unconsciously straightening her back.  She looked at the Dark Knight with confusion, “Not to be unhelpful, but why ask _me_?”

“We need to know more information before we can act.”

"Oh,” Jazz said, rather dumbly. She hoped her already red tinted cheeks hid her embarrassed flush. Her shoulders relaxed a bit more, knowing Batman wasn’t asking about specifics yet.

“There isn’t much to tell,” she started, “He doesn’t talk about his life before Arkham that often. From what we’ve observed, Number 25’s abilities are nearly directly related to his emotions.” She noted Batman’s gaze. His expression was rather blank, lips not even twitching during her speech. Her chest felt tighter, and she had to let out a small sigh before continuing. “While I don’t know the exact reason why the ice is here, I do know he was on the brink of an emotional break down. He had a visitor today that I believe reminded him of his time before Arkham, and when our session was over, he looked a little worse for wear. I was _hoping_ the guards could handle the situation…” Jazz shrugged, eyes trailing to Arkham. “Obviously, I was wrong.”

Batman didn’t comment at first. Out of the corner of her eyes, she saw him turn to Arkham as well. He seemed to be analyzing it, or maybe he was organizing his thoughts?

Jazz didn’t know. The Warden didn’t seem to want to add anything, seemingly content with staying in the background while the two conversed. At the moment, she whispered between her guards, but her focus never shifted away from Jazz and Batman. Looking away from the Warden, Jazz turned to Batman again only to find his entire focus on her.

“Why did you leave early today?” Batman asked promptly.

Jazz shifted nervously. “Something came up that afternoon. I would have stayed if I’d known this was going to happen.”

“You seem close to a patient,” he continued without pause, “especially an unknown one at Arkham.”

It was...strange, how Batman was acting. Well, not strange per say, but he seemed even more intense than usual. Yet, the Dark Knight always presented himself this way, right?

Then it all clicked. The questions, the Warden’s strange silence, how he seemed to be looming over her more than usual. All of these were to subconsciously make her fear, set her nerves on edge, so she would talk.

The worst part? _It was working._

Pushing down her nerves through sheer stubbornness, Jazz narrowed her gaze. “Why are you interrogating me? Shouldn’t we be thinking of a solution?”

“You’re withholding information,” Batman said curtly, not even denying her accusation, “The information that could stop this ice from spreading or even stop it entirely. I don’t want this be a League issue if I can help it. Now Dr. Fenton, I’m going to ask you again, what is your opinion on the situation?”

She arched an eyebrow. “Information? Why would you think I have information?”

“The Warden seemed absolutely certain that you would be of use, and simple inquiry about an inmate’s abilities that she already gave is a lot less than what I imagine you could contribute.”

“I’m a therapist, not a miracle worker,” she said, rolling her eyes. “It’s not like I know much of anything. Besides, how was I supposed to know this would happen?”

He didn’t answer her question and continued smoothly. “You’re stalling.” Which wasn’t wrong. “I only want information, and your denial is getting you nowhere.”

“How am I denying anything? All I want is to get him out of here before we have even more villains running rampant in the streets.” Taking a risk, she took a small step closer. Batman’s huge frame comically overshadowed hers. Ignoring the height difference, she met his intense gaze with narrowed eyes. “Unless you think I truly have something to add to the investigation, we should be thinking of solutions rather than making accusations.”

Jazz never expected to win in a battle of intimidation. And while she had Fenton stubbornness, Batman was well known for his tenacity. How else would he be able to protect Gotham of all places every single day? Jazz didn’t hope to win, but maybe, if she played her cards right, Batman would back off long enough to give her time to plan.

But he didn’t back off. HIs lips didn’t even twitch. When he spoke again, his words felt sharp, as if he wanted to stab her with the information. “You say Number 25’s name with a controlled indifference, as if practiced enough to not show your true feelings. Considering your personality and your limited tolerance for injustice, it is more likely that you would repress your emotions because you liked them rather than because you felt personal responsibility to watch them, knowing you would not mind showing your disdain against some of the less morally sound villains.”

He didn’t speak for a moment, but it wasn’t needed. The silence itself felt accusatory. It made her take note of the bristling winds and her practically blue skin. Despite the pressure, she didn’t move an inch. Her previous confidence, however, had wilted away.

When Jazz didn’t speak, Batman continued. “You’re withholding something from me and as a result, you’re endangering more lives.” She twitched, picturing the criminals huddled in groups and the guards being blown by the wind. “Tell me.” Somehow his voice sounded even more stern. “What do you know?”

Jazz narrowed her gaze. She hoped it looked forceful rather than forced. “Telling you anything more would betray my patient’s confidentiality and trust.” The argument sounded weak even to her ears.

Batman rebutted quickly, “There are lives at stake here, and I’m sure that the information I’m asking for isn’t a breach of patient confidentiality, especially since we’re dealing with an Arkham resident.”

Jazz wasn’t getting out of this, she realized. Batman wasn’t going to let her. If she kept silent, she couldn’t help, but if she talked too much…

“I do know how to stop the ice. At least, I have an idea.” She compromised with herself. Not too much. Maybe if she used his own tactics against him it could work. Jazz forced a small weary smile to twitch on her face. “Though I don’t think you’ll let me try it. Not unless I give you the background information.”

The Warden huffed, startling Jazz. She trudged forward, an irritated scowl etched on her face.  “At this point, I’m willing to try anything. I’m pretty sure my men are getting frostbite from this cold, and Arkham might not last any longer at this rate.” She nodded towards Batman. “What do you say Mr. Dark Knight? Want to give her a chance?”

Batman’s mouth was pressed into a thin line. His cowl hid the rest of his expression, but Jazz could tell he was searching the two of them. His gaze landed on Warden Aeron, jumping to Jazz for a brief moment, before settling back on the asylum.

Jazz’s heart thumped painfully in her chest. The only sounds were her own heartbeat and blustering wind. Both rattled her head, making it hard to keep her composure, let alone think.

When Batman started again, his voice barely rose above the wind. Yet, his tone was just as cold, sending icicles straight down Jazz’s spine. “This ice is familiar. Of course, you would know that Dr. Fenton.”

The world stopped. Batman’s tone. He knew. He _knew_ , and Jazz was sure he knew the entire time. A distinct ringing blared through her head, her already short breath feeling non-existent.

Batman waited for a moment. Maybe for her to respond, but she couldn’t. Wouldn’t. He looked Jazz up and down before continuing smoothly, “You and I both know what the true issue here is, and I believe the Warden does as well, so tell me, Dr. Fenton, how are we going to stop your brother from completely destroying Arkham?”

Jazz couldn’t think, could barely breathe. She tried to make her face blank and calm her trembling hands, even as the feeling of dread crept up her spine. The wind felt colder now, no longer able to be ignored when it felt like frost had tightened within her heart, freezing her from the inside out.

She didn’t know what to say, to do.

And so she froze under the gaze of Batman’s intimidating cowl.

A hearty laughter broke the silence. The superhero and the psychiatrist turned their heads towards the Warden. The older woman had a twisted grin, hands twitching towards her pockets, no doubt wanting a cigarette to calm her nerves. Instead the woman crossed her arms over her chest and huffed one last chuckle under her breath.

She smirked at the two, “It seems like Spooks’ cover is blown. I would feel bad but,” She shifted a bit, her eyes glancing to the building behind her, “I value my prison more than one kid. Sorry, Fenton. I know I said I’d stick my neck out a bit for him, but the Dark Knight has a rep for a reason.”

“I…” Jazz swallowed. The action only punctuated the dryness in her throat. She turned towards Batman, “How?”

“Research and deduction. We will discuss what will happen to him later after this mess is cleaned up,” He added, no doubt at her worried expression, “However, in order to do so, we need to find a way to stop this.”

Jazz was afraid of League intervention from the beginning. They were heroes, yes, but they weren’t perfect. Her brother was a perfect example of this. They didn’t know the human, or in this case, the mind, like she did. They didn’t know how precious and sensitive and oh so fragile the psychosis was. So they didn’t know leaving him in a constant environment would be best for him.

They were going to take him away after this, Jazz knew it. She couldn’t bear to see him go, but nothing would be fixed if she didn’t help Danny now.

“Doctor, get your head out of the clouds before Batman somehow develops laser vision and crisps you with just a look,” Startled from her thoughts, Jazz glanced at the Warden’s annoyed face before looking back to Batman. He didn’t look too pleased to say the least.

"Right.” Jazz cleared her throat. She had to stop her fingers from tapping against her sides. “Of course, I… okay.” she nodded to herself. “I do have a plan to help Danny, but it’s a bit dangerous.”

“Does this plan involve Plasmius?”

She didn’t even bother asking how he knew that Plasmius was there. Though he did earn a curious, quirking eyebrow from the Warden. “We tried to get in. The ice rejected him, but we found it reacted positively towards me.”

“And you want to approach the ice,” Batman stated flatly, “A civilian.”

Jazz smiled slightly, “Well, it’s the only plan I have that doesn’t involve Superman’s heat vision. And believe me, I don’t want this to be a League issue either.”

“Is someone going to inform me what’s going on?” The Warden growled next to them. The two stopped their staring match to watch her annoyed face, “because it sounds like to me that one of my best shrinks just volunteered to get blown off Arkham.”

“You heard correctly,” He confirmed for the Warden. His focus went back to Jazz, “How high of a possibility will this work?”

“Better than any other chance we’ve had so far,” she replied honestly. Jazz didn’t know if it would work, but it had to be better than sending another guard flying off into the distance.

Batman eyed Jazz for a moment. Not taking his eyes off of her, he asked lowly, “Warden, would you set up a perimeter around gates and get Dr. Fenton a jacket? I want us to be able to do this with the least amount of risks possible.”

“Us?” There was never supposed to be more than just her.

That plan also died, judging by Batman’s stern tone. “I’m not letting you go into a highly dangerous building alone. Of all the potential guides, I would be handle the conditions the best.”

She wanted to protest, but she couldn’t.

She looked to Arkham, pointedly keeping her gaze away from Batman. “Alright,” Jazz hated how soft her voice came out. How _defeated_ it sounded.

The Warden started making preparations. Her two guards scurried about at her orders, preparing for whatever Batman had in mind.

Out of the corner of her eyes, Jazz saw the Warden face them once more. “I’m trusting you two not to bring the other big guns here.” She sounded disgruntled, but not exactly angry. Scared? Worried? Annoyed? There were too many possibilities in Jazz’s scrambled mind.  

Batman thankfully replied for the both Jazz and himself. “I trust we won’t need them.”

“Good.” Her boots crunched loudly in the snow, leaving the two on their own.

Arkham never felt colder, Jazz would have to think. Even in the coolest corners of the dankest interrogation rooms, she never felt this cold or uneasy. The last time she even nearly felt this way was…

This time wasn’t nearly as bad as then. Danny was alive, maybe not okay, but alive and ready to be saved. Still, she never wanted to invite this sick feeling in her stomach again. 

“Dr. Fenton,” Batman interrupted her thoughts. His voice sounded firm, but he took the softer tone again. She waited for him to continue, but the silence stretched onward, digging her dread deeper into her stomach.

Reluctantly, she turned to face Batman once more. Quietly, she responded, “Yes?”

Batman didn’t give away any clues at what he was thinking. He eyed her evenly, “We will talk after your brother is secured.”

She swallowed once more, feeling small. Even after the many villains throughout her career, she could easily say that on fear inducing looks, Batman’s glare secured number one on levels of unsettlement and self-guilt.

After all, Batman was a hero. You know you did something wrong when the Dark Knight sent guilty shivers down your spine.

She looked down at the crunching snow under her feet, biting her lip to try but fail to keep her shivers at bay.

“I know.” Her voice felt small, insignificant.

Batman met her eyes on final time, searching for something she couldn’t have guessed to know, before simply looking at Arkham’s now constant blue glow.

  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Detective Batman is best Batman and I will take no exceptions. 
> 
> I don't really have much to say other than thank you for sticking around. This took far too long, and I apologize. And unfortuantly, I don't know whether I'll be back quickly or not. A lot of my interest for this story has left. I want to continue it because we're not even on the interesting parts yet! But it's taking a lot more time to get to the parts I actually wanted to write than previously thought.
> 
> The story isn't dead. I don't even want to say hiatus. I'm going with, "incredibly sparatic updates and maybe working on other things in between"
> 
> Anyway, thank you for reading! Critiques are loved. Tell me what you liked. Tell me what you disliked. Your reviews are a blessing that kept this going! Every time you guys reviewed, I got reminded that "hey people actually like this thing I started writing years ago. I should finish this." Anyway, thank you thank you thank you so much for your support. You guys are awesome and I hope you have a nice day, afternoon, night, and life!
> 
> See you next time!
> 
> ~LunagaleMaster


	10. Interlude: Common Knowledge (plus an important notice)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Danny hated the B with all his heart. The feeling was mutal. (Important information in the Chapter Notes)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: IMPORTANT PLEASE READ BEFORE CONTINUING
> 
> 1) This is not actually a plot update. There is information here relevant to what happened to Danny when he was captured, but it is not to what’s occurring at the moment within the story.
> 
> 2)When reading, I set this as a T+ in my mind. If you think it should be mature, please comment if you think so!
> 
> 3) Before you get scared with the first comment, no I’m not abandoning this story. Again, more information is at the end on what’s going on.
> 
>  
> 
> And with that here’s a little bit of content because I couldn’t stand to update without something to give you guys.
> 
> Trigger warnings: Torture, electrocution, psychological torture
> 
> I do not own Danny Phantom. All rights go to Nickelodeon studios. Please support the official release.

He couldn’t stop shaking.

 

Every muscle in Danny’s body ached from overuse. He stopped counting the number of things they tested on him (strength, durability, how long he could stay in each form, if he could get stronger-), and just grit his teeth to get through it all. Today, they batted him around like a pinata to see how long it would take to see first blood. An hour later he was wheezing in the ground and glaring at the spots the hidden guns peeked out. 

 

His mattress hadn’t appeared yet, and other than the B telling him and the guns to cease he hadn’t heard an order from her in… well, who knew how long. For all he knew, the B was just going to let him inwardly and outwardly bleed until his super healing kicked in. That was probably the point, the more he thought about it.

 

Danny didn’t really care what the B was doing; let her play her mind games. He just wanted to sleep…

 

“Danny, keep your eyes open, child,” a staticy voice called out from all around him. Danny cracked his eyes open (he didn’t know he closed them) to glare at the white walls. “There we go. You’re too injured to sleep just yet,” there was a sound of shuffling, pointed by the clicking of a pen. He could practically hear her smile, as she purred, “and there’s a lot more to do today.”

 

“Joy,” he mumbled, wincing when he realized he snarked back.   
  


“Isn’t it?” She replied. He let himself take a breath when he realized she didn’t take offense. The B continued with an excitement in her voice, the pen scratching softly in the background, “Two agents will be in your room shortly to heal your wounds. We have a serum that heals ghosts quickly by triggering the system that regenerates their bodies. However, due to your status, it is unknown if it will work on you.

 

“So, we’re testing a non-fatal wound today to make sure the serum works for future use.” A painfully familiar metal table started rising in the middle of the room. “Please sit on the table until the scientists arrive.”

 

Danny turned his head to glare at the table silently. He pressed his lips to swallow down the nausea building up in his throat. His head was already dizzy from the pain and blood loss, but it was nothing compared to the anger making his hands shake. 

 

“Danny? Do you understand?” There was a sweet, ‘compassionate’ edge in her tone that made him want to puke.

 

“Yes, ma’am,” he said quietly, slowly trying to stand up. 

 

“Very good, now can you get on the table by yourself?” 

 

_No_, he thought when flares of pain shot through his legs. He bit his lip, as his bruised muscles protested. “Yep,” he hissed back. 

 

“If you’re so sure,” she replied, sounding amused, “They will come in once you’re sitting on the table. Just ask if you need some assistance.” 

 

Danny held his side. The blood dried enough to seal the wound, but how long would that last? He took a shaky breath. “Will do,” he muttered. A heavy layer of dread washed over him when he realized how far he’d have to walk to get to the table. 

 

It was a slow process and Danny may have blacked out a bit once or twice. Every step made him want to scream and every breath shot another stab of pain through his lungs. The wound in his side pulsed unpleasantly oozing blood not three steps in. Somehow he found his way to the table, but with sweat dripping down his forehead, a heavy haze of numb heat clouding his mind, and the aches twisting into an outright screech, he didn’t know if his pride was worth the struggle. 

 

Danny blinked slowly at the white walls. The cold metal pressed against him uncomfortably, and he had to hold both of his hands now to keep his side from bleeding. Yet, he found himself staring vacantly, overcome by crushing tiredness. 

 

“You should have let them carry you. It would have saved both of us the trouble” the B tsked, bringing Danny out of his thoughts. She sounded more disappointed than irritated, and she huffed shortly into her mic. “But that’s just something to note for next time. Now, lay down. We don’t have all day.” 

 

“I do,” he grumbled even as he moved to lay down, moving slowly to keep the pain low. He shut his eyes tightly and forced a heavy groan away. Surprisingly, his head didn’t hit metal when he finally made it, but rather a nice fluffy freshly poofed pillow. He didn’t know if someone was kind enough to actually leave something nice enough to leave such a gift or if the rightly suspicious part of his mind was right not to trust it, but he was too tired to really care either way. 

 

“Comfy?” The B asked kindly, suspiciously (they were both the same for her). At Danny’s small noise, she chuckled lowly, making him open his eyes just so he narrow them at the ceiling. “Perfect,” she purred. Danny twitched in irritation. 

 

There was a sound of whooshing followed by a loud clank. Two sets of feet clomped in time with the high pitched rings of metal bouncing against metal and the soft pings of plastics. A second later, two white coated, masked people came into his field of vision. Danny didn’t even have time to react when they reached for him. They forcefully pressed his hands and feet into the upper and lower shackles of the table, locked him up, and pressed something cold into his side before Danny even had time to yelp. The pain caught on quickly and before he could bite his lip, a loud gasping, scream hissed out of his mouth.

 

“Are you comfy now?” The B asked again, clearly satisfied with Danny’s reaction. 

 

“Super,” he mumbled back. The shaking was back but worse. He couldn’t move his arms and legs from this spot, and the bleeding was back and making his head foggier than before. Even as he clenched his eyes, he couldn’t blank out the feelings in the room. The cold plastic of the scientist’s glove poked at his skin, testing the muscles and bruises, probably wanting to see him scream just to write down the reaction on their little clipboards.

 

Danny glared at the ceiling. “When are you going to put the stupid stuff in me?” 

 

There was another whoosh followed by the distinct sound of heels clacking against tile. The scientists straightened up immediately and moved a small distance away from him. Before Danny could even get a good look at her entrance, the table shuddered, and he hissed under his breath, as his upper body was forced to in an upright position. Whatever the GIW coats put on him somehow stayed on, but that didn’t stop Danny from feeling the dizzying pain as the wound opened once more. 

 

“I think we’ll find time to inject you soon,” the B said from behind him. The heels clacked to his left, and his eyes darted to follow them. Something in his chest tightened, growing bigger and making it harder and harder to breathe as the sound crept nearer.

 

Then he spotted her, a lab coat same as the others, but underneath a hidden pants suit. Her long red hair was held up tight in a ponytail, pulling her skin tightly, making the sharpness in her eyes and cheekbones even more prominent. Her curled smiled, all teeth, bled across her face in a smear of ruby red lipstick. 

 

Her gaze drilled into him, a soft auburn that didn’t fit the calculated way they danced across his body. She chuckled at something but he didn’t know what because her eyes met his before he could see where they were. 

 

“Are you happy to see me?” She asked, tone too amused to be friendly. 

 

He glared at her. “Do you want an honest answer?” His voice sounded more strained and soft than he would have liked. The weight in his chest felt like it was clogging his throat. 

 

She quirked an eyebrow at that before shaking her head. “I suppose that answers my question, doesn’t it?” The B didn’t wait for him to answer and continued smoothly. For the first time since she arrived, Danny noticed she was carrying something. A book, an I-pod, and notebook of sorts. She rearranged the items in her arms to hold out the book. “This is a book on the Russian language. I thought it was about time to start applying your skills to the real world. Since invisibility and intangibility would be great traits in espionage, I thought it would be best to learn a few languages. First Russian to see your potential, and then Korean, Pashto, and Dari if we have time.” 

 

He stopped listening halfway through, his mind reeling at her words. “...Real world applications,” he muttered. His mouth felt so dry that he practically had to force the words out. 

 

“Well, yes,” The B said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “These tests have to have a clear reason, you see. I can’t keep experimenting on you without a purpose. Did you think a weapon would only just shoot things?” She scoffed. “That would be a waste, now wouldn't it?” 

 

Danny blinked dumbly at her. He tried to find the words, but it was lost in some jumbled part of his mind. His eyes trailed back to the book in her hands. 

 

“Danny? Are you listening?”

 

Espionage, she had said. Spying, getting information, and doing… whatever these type of people did. He had pushed away what exactly he was doing this near the beginning after Tucker had-

 

He swallowed down the pile and pushed away that thought like all the thoughts he kept having. 

 

_“Danny.”_

 

Being a weapon suddenly became much more real when faced with real people. Danny could partially trick himself into thinking he was simply training or in some grand experiment when he was fighting or worked to death. Sure, the B _said_ they wanted to use him, but that idea felt far off in some other future, one where he didn’t get out of this mess because _of course_ he would get out of this before things got dire. That was the plan, and until now, training until he could find a way to escape was a good idea. 

 

Seeing the book and other items made it all seem much more real. He didn’t know if it was bile or blood, but something sharp and hot rose up his throat and Danny didn’t know if he could push it down any longer. 

 

_“Daniel Fenton, answer me now before you suffer the consequences.”_

 

Shakily, Danny looked back up at the B. Her lips were pressed in one red clump, as her eyes drilled holes into his own. In her hands, he noted the button that activated his shock collar, and something about the animosity in her gaze plus the direct and indirect threat brought a sick, burning fury through the acid block. 

 

_“I hate you,”_ he spat. For once he didn’t care about the venom in his voice or the consequences of his actions. He needed her to know. Now. 

 

Her eyes widened a bit, but quickly smoothe out into a half-lidded amusement, lips quirking from their pressed state to reveal sharp canines. “And I you, Danny.”

 

Danny narrowed his eyes further. “I thought you found me intriguing?”

 

“Oh, I do,” she confirmed. The B handed off the items to a faceless scientists, but her gaze never left his. She sauntered closer, heels pointedly clacking with her words. “You’re fascinating in your monstrosity, Danny. You never should exist, and that’s what makes you a perfect abomination.” The B was close enough so he could see the individual cracks in her lipstick, and the soft shimmering in her eyes. The bright lights blaring down on them made her skin look even paler, bringing out striking colors in her eyes, lips, and the stray hairs dangling down across her face. “But you’re my monster, Danny, and even if they use you as a weapon, I won’t let them take you away from me forever. I guarantee it.”

 

Danny glared back at her, stomach twisting at the repeated words his own mind had said several times before. He arched an eyebrow. “You’re torturing innocent victims while I’m here getting cut up for saving people. But sure, I’m the monster here.” 

 

She chuckled darkly. “All monsters are human. Why do you think we connect with them in stories? I’m in worst monster you’ll ever meet, and yet, society thinks I’m the hero when it comes to the two of us.” 

 

“You’re no hero,” he hissed. He couldn’t hold back the flash of green behind his eyes, even if he couldn’t do anything with it.

 

The B didn’t even lean back. She simply arched a brow. “Of course not,” She drawled, “I know that, and you know that. Yet, you’re here, stuck on a metal table about to be subjected to potentially life threatening drugs and I’m being paid numerous of dollars to do that to you.

 

“This isn’t about right or wrong, Danny. It’s about societal expectations and playing them to your advantage. In here, it doesn’t matter if you did your best to be a _hero_,” she said the word mockingly. A too warm, too soft hand gently cupped his face, and if he wasn’t already looking at her before, Danny was forced to stare, as her nails clawed into his cheek, “because here, you’re valuable as what you are, not who. As long as you retain your identity, as a person, you’re never going to be happy.. Because to anyone else, you’re nothing but an abomination that should have been scrapped for parts in a long running experiment to destroy the essence of monstrosities.

 

The full blown toothy grin was back. “But to me, you’re _my_ abomination, and as soon as you realize that, you’re going to be much happier here.”

 

She believed every word she said with a vile honestly. A glimmer of malice mixed in with psychopathy, only a mad scientist could have. 

 

“I’d say you can go get a pet instead,” he muttered back, “but you’d probably kill it for fun.”

 

The B’s grin didn’t leave, in fact it only grew wider. Her gaze searched his face for a moment, before suddenly retreating, leaving a warm imprint in the otherwise freezing room. The B looked him up and down once again, clearly contemplating something; he didn’t know what, but seeing how her eyes twinkled it couldn’t have been good. 

 

“I need to punish what’s mine, so it can be obeyed,” she said finally, “I hope you understand.” 

 

Then she brought out the remote to his shock collar. 

 

Danny barely had time to tense. His eyes widened, and he only a glimpse of the incredibly high setting she put the shock on before-

 

Pain. Burning hot bright burning pain. It started as a soft spark choking his throat before burning and reburning his entire body in a trail of endless aching fire that just wouldn’t stop. He screamed out, as the electricity overtook him. The fire seemed to find its way from his throat, into his skin, and slipped to every nook and cranny of his body so no part of him could miss how it felt to die. Every part of him screamed for it to end to stop because he was dying. Dying. DYING. HE DIDN’T WANT TO DIE AGAIN BUT IT JUST WOULDN’T-

 

The electricity stopped suddenly like it wasn’t even there, leaving Danny a gasping, even more aching mess. His wound opened again, but compared to the whining after shocks and the fact he could barely breathe, it didn’t seem to matter too much. As he tried to keep himself together, tears of pain rolled down his cheeks without his permission. 

 

A too hot, searing hand gripped his face again, the sudden jolt bringing out a whimper in him. “Look at me,” The B said sternly. When he didn’t open his eyes right away, her nails dug into his skin tighter. _”Now.”_

 

Danny, despite all his anger, was too tired to resist anymore. So he did. 

 

It was stupid how much effort it took to crack open his eyes. It was like all his energy was shaking out of him through the aftershocks. When he opened them, all he could see was the B, her narrowed eyes, and the scowl on her bloody lips. 

 

“You may hate me, as I hate you,” she whispered lowly, “But I want you to respect me. You are mine, and I can give or take anything from you. Whether it be comfort,” her free hand pulled the pillow from behind his head and threw it away. “Or pain. I control in your life now and that won’t change. The only difference in your treatment is how you treat me and your tasks. You’re just making your life and everyone else’s life worse by being a brat. 

 

“Do you understand?” 

 

He felt so tired. In pain, sick, and so angry, but everything was blanketed with his heavy layer of exhaustion that he knew a goodnight’s sleep wasn’t going to cure. He wanted to say no, to spit in her face, anything else but what she wanted, but… but…

 

Danny looked down and whispered softly. “Yes, ma’am.” 

 

“Good.” She patted him softly on the cheek, and her hand disappeared. 

 

He kept his eyes trained on her as she moved away, but the B seemed to have lost interest in Danny. After dusting off her jacket and pants suit, she turned away from him completely. He followed her click clacking steps, tensing when she leaned down to pick something off the ground. The pillow, he realized, and his body shook further, as she neared him again. 

 

The B touched the top of his head gently. He froze, heart practically stopping. When all she did was put a light pressure against his head, he hesitantly allowed her to move him. There was a sound of shuffling and something soft pressed against his neck. Then, as quick as it moved him, her hand placed him back.

 

On the pillow.

 

He blinked at the ceiling in confusion, his shaking only increasing. 

 

“For obeying,” the B said evenly. There was no affection in her tone, just… a fact. 

 

Without pause she disappeared from his view again. The B must have pressed the button to bring him back down again because the table moved to its original position. Danny tried to look at the B, as she left. As the table clicked back down, he only saw a rush of red and a swoop of her lab coat, before the door slammed closed behind her. 

 

Danny knew he should be focusing on whatever these scientists were doing to him, but… he couldn’t, he just couldn’t. Now that she wasn’t here it was easier to put his thoughts together, even if these thoughts were more rushing feeling than anything. 

 

He hated her.

 

He hated her so much.  He hated the way she looked at him. He hated the way she walked in like she owned everything in the room including him. He hated the fights, the experiments, the torture. He hated the way these things made him feel powerful and how his power grew with each task. He hated how much he liked that little bit of warmth when she patted him on the cheek. He hated how he perked up when he heard her voice because while he hated her with all his might, the B was the only voice he heard _ever_ in this place and he’d go crazy without someone to talk to.  He hated the fact he could get out at any moment, but at the cost of everything he ever cared about. He hated how the B knew this too, and used this to her advantage every single time he even tried to be a little bit rebellious. 

 

Danny hated himself for getting into this situation to being with. For not being smart enough. For not being brave enough. For putting his loved one’s lives on the line for a simple cause. For potentially hurting hundreds of thousands of others in the future just to keep them safe. 

 

He…he just wanted to go home, sleep, and forget everything. 

 

But as the white coats hooked him up with several IVs filled with a glowing green substance, Danny knew that this battle wasn’t ending anytime soon. 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cool cool, so usually I’d go with my “tell me what you like and tell me what you dislike” shindig, but that’s not the purpose of this update. This was more of a “I couldn’t just leave a giant message so here’s some content guys! :D (please don’t kill me)”
> 
> Last update, I gave a little note saying I was getting a bit worn down because of this fic and wanted to take a break. That still sort of applies, but now I’ve got a different reason why this isn't’ going to be updating a bit.
> 
> The most common criticism of CoaSP is its terribly slow pacing, and I one hundred percent agree. That’s also a lot of the reason why I haven’t been updating because even I haven’t been interested in writing this slow thing. But now, I have a plan.
> 
> CoaSP is getting a major overhaul. Next time it’s updated here’s what’s going to happen:
> 
>  
> 
> 1) Probably 5000 words edited out just in taking out too much fluff. That will help a lot in the pacing
> 
> 2) Chapters being rearranged and/or taken out. Again pacing, plus I want to make things flow better. Ex: All the Danny dream chapters will be moved somewhere else in this arc.
> 
> 3) All the extra chapters (like this one) will be cut out. They won’t be gone entirely. I might put them as a bonus when I’m done.
> 
> 4) REALLY IMPORTANT AND WHAT INSPIRED ALL THIS: There’s going to be one major plot point that I’m essentially rewriting within this. It won’t affect chapter 1 or 2 that much, but from the conversation with Vlad and beyond, it pretty much will affect everything and pretty much change the entire plot of the work (but in a good way that gives me more direction). I won’t say what it is, but it’ll be pretty obvious.
> 
>  
> 
> This… is going to take awhile. I don’t know how long. It depends on inspiration and time. I want to say by the end of my winter break (so January-ish), but I have a ton of other projects I’m working on as well, so I can’t promise that. This rewrite could be done by the end of 2017 to all the way to summer 2018. Who knows at this point.
> 
> CoaSP was my first major story, and my most popular story I’ve written and so far, and while I’m proud of what it is so far, I feel like it could be much, much better. I want to make it a better story, one I’ll enjoy writing and everyone will enjoy reading. I’ve been thinking about a rewrite for awhile now, and at first I thought I would just do it at the end of this arc, but I shouldn’t, especially with these new ideas.
> 
> For those who stuck it out since the beginning and even new readers today, thank you for reading CoaSP as the mess as it is. You guys are wonderful for sticking it out through it all. For long time readers especially, thank you for reading even when it’s been months upon months since I’ve updated. You guys are the best kind of people.
> 
> Now, that that’s done. Here’s what I need YOU guys to do for those who like to comment.
> 
>  
> 
> 1) Tell me what you’d rate this chapter in terms of maturity. This is about the level of intensity the story is going to get and it will really help my decision on whether to rate this story M or not.
> 
> 2) Tell me where you think the pacing needs the most help, and no, I’m not expecting you guys to go back and re-read, please don’t. For those who have read the full story recently or those who remember where it felt a little off, just tell me the general chapters you might think won’t work well.
> 
>  
> 
> And that’s it! That’s all… for now. (Again this is NOT an abandoned message. I have a full doc of the story ready for editing and everything I swear! Lol)
> 
> Again, thank you guys so much for being here and reading. Going into this, I didn’t expect this much attention, and it’s been amazing so far. Next time this updates, CoaSP will be buff and shiny and ready for reading, I guarantee it.
> 
> Until then, thanks for reading. See you next time, my dudes!
> 
> LunagaleMaster~


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